


Gemini

by YoungR0se



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Afterlife, Alternate Universe - Alien Invasion, Alternate Universe - Magic, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Australia, Doctor Who References, F/M, Friendship/Love, Ghost Drifting, Ghosts, Hydra (Marvel), Marvel Universe, Mind Control, Multiple Personalities, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Soft Loki, Spirits, Surgery, Telepathy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-16 10:28:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 17
Words: 41,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29080914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YoungR0se/pseuds/YoungR0se
Summary: Born of military experiments and alien technology, Asset 47 is a prototype super-soldier. An unforeseen by-product of the experiments and tech, Ghost is a bodiless consciousness. They are one person split in two, each trapped in their own world with no knowledge of the other’s existence. Asset is a ruthless killer, Ghost is a kind-hearted optimist. Can these polar-opposites ever reconcile their differences and reunite into one, whole person ever again? And what, or who, could ever inspire them to do so?
Relationships: Tom Hiddleston/Loki/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 9





	1. Before the Flood (Prologue)

**Author's Note:**

> This is drastically UA. All events up until Infinity War are as canon, but after that... not so much.  
> Written as a form of self-expression during a time of major personal development. I thought perhaps other people may enjoy it, hence I'm posting it here as each chapter becomes ready.  
> Each chapter note contains a link to a song that I was listening to during writing, or that I feel suits the chapter.  
> Welcome to my dark and twisted phyche... Just kidding (maybe) ;)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I was just like you, once...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Crazy - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-N4jf6rtyuw

It’s another Wednesday in the city. Bumper-to-bumper traffic, horns blaring, people getting pissed off, me trying to do my job. Much as I detest the rat-race of the city, the delivery job is good. I’m my own boss from the time I collect the mail until I get back to the depot; I’m out and about, not stuck behind a desk. Yep, bright-sider, that’s me. I take a side-street to bypass the thicker traffic; it takes a minute longer but it’s also a continually moving minute, not a potentially-stuck-at-the-lights-for-an-hour kind of minute. It also means I can keep singing along to the song playing on the radio: " _And I hope that you are having the time of your life… but think twice… that's my only advice."_ I navigate a tricky intersection, shuffling through the gears with practised ease, still singing, " _Ever since I was little it looked like fun, and it's no coincidence I've come… and I can die when I'm done..."_

My destination is a rundown warehouse. I look up at the building with apprehension. Most of my work goes to swish business, not dumps like this place. But, that’s the address on the packet. Whatever… I find the package and scan the label. The scanner beeps obnoxiously, declaring the barcode is invalid. I roll my eyes at it. Now I have to go find a _person_ and get this figured out. Great. There’s no one around in the bland lobby. The package label declares itself to be headed for 'level 3, room 9'. Okay…

The lift creaks slightly when I get in, humming the chorus absent-mindedly. On level three, I wander around for a minute before I find a door with a number on it, then guess which way 9 should be from 5 and hope for the best. I get lucky and knock on the door of room 9. There’s a scuffle inside, then a weasel-faced little man opens the door a crack, “Can I help you?”

I give him my generic delivery-person smile, “Hello, this is addressed to this room,” I wave the parcel under his nose, “but my scanner won’t accept the barcode. Is there someone here who can claim it, and I can put it through manually?”

“Yes, yes, of course… I can do that.” It takes a few minutes to get it sorted, but finally, I’m done and get out of there. This place gives me the creeps! Just as the lift doors close, I see a movement in the corridor. Strange, there was no one there just now… The door dings open and as I step out, a wash of primal dread tingles down my spine. There is a sense of sudden movement behind me, I flinch and draw breath to scream but everything goes black.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_The year was 2006. A small article in the paper proclaimed yet another vanished person in the city, this time an employee of a reputable courier company. A personal courier went missing on Wednesday; the truck was found, the driver was not. End of story._

_Time passes..._


	2. Trials and Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 12 years a prisoner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bulletproof - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d-aEsqhKNv8

  


_In a military bunker, somewhere in the continental US, circa 2018…_

_~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~_

God damn those nosey new SHIELD agents, thought General Asherford. Why couldn’t they just let well enough alone? Years of dedicated service, and this is his reward? Having all his work blown up and confiscated by some upstarts in funny costumes. He pinched the bridge of his nose. What was so wrong with the compartmentalisation, the under-the-table dealings that had allowed him to progress the technological might of the military beyond any other competitor. It had worked for years, and now it was all falling down around him. What was the world coming to?

A young, scared-looking lieutenant sprinted into the command room, skidding to a halt and throwing the quickest salute in military history. “Sir, they have breached the compound!”

“Very well,” Asherford squinted at the live footage from the fight in the hanger, “Shut down everything, wipe all the drives.” All the data was backed-up to his personal computer system every evening. They could handle loosing a day’s worth of data. It hadn’t been much anyway, since they’d been on high alert since that morning.

“Yessir!”

“And… “

The soldier turned from his work at the computer banks. “Sir?”

“I think it’s time we showed them the big guns.”

The lieutenant’s eyes widened in shock. “Number 47, sir?”

“Yes.”

“But, I thought it was just a prototype…”

Asherford sighed, “Yes, it is. But what’s the point of having a prototype race car in the garage if you never get to take it for a spin on the track?” The lieutenant just stared at him, mouth open. “Look, what’s you name, kid?”

“Lieutenant Pony, sir!”

“Okay, Lieutenant Pony, answer me this: the boat’s going down. Do you really want to go down with it?”

Pony looked confused.

“That’s the Avengers knocking at the front door, kid. No one beats them. I’m going to distract them with 47, you need to engage the terminal shut-down protocol for this place, and then get the hell out of here.”

“Yessir!” Pony turned back to the computer, typing madly. “Protocol in motion, sir!”

“Good. Take this to the rendezvous point,” Asherford handed the panicking Pony a silver briefcase, “Whatever you do, don’t get caught and don’t drop it.” Pony whimpered. The General gave the trembling Lieutenant a fatherly clap on the shoulder. “You’re young, still got a life ahead of you – don’t waste it. Now, scram!”

“Yessir!” Pony gave another lightning salute and bolted for the door. Asherford smiled to himself. At least the kid was out, one less life on his conscience. God, he must be getting old, thinking like that.

He opened the laptop that housed the control software for Asset 47. The access page glowed to life, and Asherford input his password, then craned his neck down to get both retinas scanned. He cleared his throat.

“General Asherford, James Dillon.”

**Three-step verification accepted.**

**Welcome, General.**

He flexed his fingers and blew out a breath, then typed, **Input command: activate Asset 47. Protocol: Combat preparation.**

He paused for a second, frowning, then hit the enter key.

**Command accepted.**

**Connecting to network adapter…**

**Connected.**

**Booting internal devices...**

**Flushing holding tank...**

There is a gurgling of water flowing through the pipes above Asherford’s head. He watched on the monitor as the revitalisation tanks yellow liquid swirled away, revealing Asset 47. Such a long way she’d come. Brought in by some low-life contractor because she was alone in the world, parents recently dead, not many friends. No one to miss her. Just another terrified woman, cowering in the holding cell.

When he first saw her, she was nondescript, with brown hair and blue eyes. The program had changed her beyond recognition. Some of the experimental drugs had caused an allergic reaction, and gradually she lost all the pigmentation in her skin, becoming essentially albino. The doctors could never give a solid explanation for the reaction, or why her irises had turned yellow. Despite the setbacks, her mental capabilities had flourished. She could plot the best strategic manoeuvrers he had ever seen, do advanced mental mathematics, and solve puzzles and cryptic questions that left even their top geeks stumped for at least a few hours.

But, when she had refused to volunteer for the final stage of training, she had been given to the more morally-questionable of the scientists, and they had done their own bit of experimenting, breaking her spirit and taking full control of her capabilities.

Asset 47 was now a superb weapon. Fitted with the finest nanotechnology, full-body e-Nerv System and tactical programming. Subdermal armour plates covered most of her body and a military-grade processor was wired into her brain, giving her super-human reflexes and combat techniques.

Asherford sighed. That had been a strange day. The lab techs told him that she was merely unresponsive, still alive but just ‘not there’after they booted up the e-Nerv for the first time. He had blown his lid, thinking they’d killed her, but then she had opened her feral yellow eyes. That memory still gave him the heeby-jeebies – her eyes were cold, heartless. The look was gone in an instant, and Asset’s eyes went blank, as they had been ever since, but that was enough to shake him to his very core. The doctor was overjoyed with the result, going on about the prospects of super-soldiers, but Asherford couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d just helped create a monster.

**Scanning biological system...**

**Vitals stable.**

**All internal devices present and functional.**

**Battery: p erformance mode, 99 %, discharging.**

**Asset deployed.**

The door of the tank opened and 47 stepped out. The video feed glitched and Asherford tapped the monitor. The feed stabilised and he watched as she pulled on trousers and a vest. There was a feral grace to her movements, a subdued power, but every now and then the clipped movements gave away the fact that there was an algorithm running the show.

She finished preparing and stood frozen. Her face was blank, but then it always was; he hadn’t seen a single emotion cross 47’s face, not even when she killed that kid in… where was it? Didn’t matter.

**Input command: activate Protocol: Defend Home.**

There was a seconds pause, then the reply, **Defend Home active.**

Text continued to flow up the screen, but it was just log-file data. Nothing he needed to watch. Asherford sighed, closed the laptop lid and stood up. 47 would keep the Avengers busy for a while. He put the framed photo of his wife into a knapsack, along with some journals, scientific papers and his packed lunch. Right, time to go. He walked to the secret escape door, leaned in just the right place and crouched down to shuffle through the narrow corridor beyond.


	3. Discovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You can hear me...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is not America - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nsMUxdZGgWI

Oh _God_ , not again…

I am pulled from the peaceful drift by the familiar sensation, like being pricked all over by thousands of needles; the activation of the body. Well, technically it’s _my_ body, but we’ve been apart for so long, I just call her the name they gave her, Asset. That’s all she is now.

Me? I used to live in that body, back when it was normal. I was just another girl in the world, living in the city, doing my job. Minding my own business, getting on with life.

But all that changed when I was snatched. Tortured, experimented upon, bleached, broken, rebuilt and subjugated. Don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t _all_ bad. Whatever drugs they gave me expanded my mind. I’d always been good with maths and puzzles, but now… I threw myself into whatever they gave me to learn because it was _fun:_ languages, advances theoretical physics, chemistry, computer science, astronomy, history. The most complicated subjects became understandable. The best part is that I remembered _everything_ , like having an instant-access library in my head. I enjoyed the experience so much, I almost forgave them for turning me into a pale freak.

But then they told me, “Hey, you made it through the program, congratulations! Here’s a gun, go kill someone.” I refused. That’s when they gave me to the crazy guy who put a computer in my head and wired up my body. It’s basically an organic robot now.

So yeah, I just float around. A naked consciousness, a bared soul; held torturously at the half-way point between life and death, evicted from my body by the technology under my skin, in my muscles, my brain; but still tied to it by the laws of life.

And now they have activated the body. She steps out of the tank, pale skin glistening, naked as the day she was born. Her yellow eyes are vacant, face devoid of expression. The armour plating gives her rugged look, contrasting weirdly with her feminine features, and there are wires visible as dark lines beneath her skin.

She dresses in combat pants and vest, stowing various throwing knives about her person. That was their latest experiment, loading her brain with projectile telemetry and betting on how small a target, at how great a distance, she could hit; like it was all a game to them. I know someone’s watching right now –there are cameras everywhere in this place. Pervs.

Asset stands frozen, awaiting the next command from the one-way-mirror-windowed room that I’ve never been in. Can’t get into, actually. I’ve tried. I have a lot of free time, floating around while she’s asleep.

There’s a spark in her eyes now. They must have sent her a data-packet. Her head turns, her body following the movement in that robotic way. We move to the hangar door, her walking silently on bare feet, me floating behind her.

There are voices on the other side. Asset opens the door, slips through and vanishes behind a stack of cartons. She makes her way around the perimeter of the hangar, keeping out of sight and silent. I float up and away, not wanting to follow her too closely. I know the drill; she will be efficient, no one will be left standing.

I turn to the targets, three guys in strange outfits. Well, who I am to talk, really – I’m a ghost. There’s a guy in blue and red, with a white star on his chest. He seems to be in charge, giving orders to scurrying lackies. Another man steps out of a suit of red and gold armour. He goes to one of the planes and pokes around in the cockpit. There’s another guy, dressed in green leather, leaning casually against a storage crate. He looks bored.

I float closer, shifting my perception so I can see their auras. I learned how to do that a while ago; it was interesting to see the new recruits, all bright and full of life. As time went on, their light dimmed and muted, becoming the same drab colour of all the soldiers around here. But not these guys, they are full of life and colour. Not completely healthy, but then who is in this world. But still, they shine with good intent and interest and life. And they’re about to be snuffed out.

Asset has reached her position now, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. I drift up to the bored chap in green. His aura is different from the others, slower-moving, more richly coloured. Sadness envelopes me as I stare at him, seeing his handsome face accentuated by his auric glow. I sense an ancient power in him, a deep-rooted strength, an age to his soul that I’ve never seen before. It’s beautiful. I grieve for every life Asset takes, no matter who, but this one will be all the more painful.

His eyes flick up and for a breathless moment, it feels like he’s looking right at me. I draw back in surprise. That’s never happened before. He sweeps a hand in front of him, palm forward like he’s feeling the air, then calls out to the guy in the plane. I can’t make out the words.

There is a swishing sound and a knife passes straight through me and thuds into the timber crate. Yep, that’s Asset through and through – always goes for the throat. But he’s gone; how did he move so fast?

Now they’re all yelling and on the alert. Knives swish and clatter, some thudding into crates, other ricocheting off their target’s armour. The blue guy is holding a shield of all things. Didn’t shields lose popularity in the 1600s or something? When there were knights on horses? Another of Asset’s knives, thrown with such speed it’s almost invisible, clangs off the metal. Wow, strong shield. The other man is back inside his red robot, blasting energy beams, trying to get her but she’s too fast. The man in green leather has vanished.

Asset drops from the catwalk into the top of a plane, and from there to the hangar floor. She lets loose a couple more knives before raising her hands, fingers spread and clawed. Electricity from the battery nestled within her pelvic girdle channels into her hands, her fingers spark and her hairs rises with static, framing her angular face like a halo.

Red-robot and The Shield back away, and the other steps out from behind a crate, hands lose by his sides, defenceless. But he’s different. His aura is gone, just a simmering outline frames him. I don’t understand it. Asset charges at him, fingers sparking, but just as she swipes at him, the man vanishes in a green shimmer. There is a blur behind Asset and he reappears, again defenceless. Asset wheels around and strikes at him again, but he dissolves, only to be replaced with at least 10 separate images, all impossibly life-like, all moving independently.

I can tell they’re not real, but Asset can’t; her head turns slowly as she scans them, trying to tell the target from the decoys. Only the aura show’s which is the real thing, and right now the real thing drops from the catwalk, directly onto Asset’s shoulders. She looks up at the last possible second and tries to dive out of the way; he collides with her back, and they both crash to the floor.

Before she can react he grabs her from behind, trapping her arms behind her back and wrapping his legs around hers, keeping her on the floor. I watch in amazement as they struggle. Assetwriggles and squirms, smashes her head back into the guy’s face, breaking his nose; he curls around her like a python, trapping her in a lethal embrace. She tries to break his grip with leverage and pure, wild strength, but she can barely move now. No one has ever beaten Asset in a fight. Ever. _Who is this guy?_

Red-robot runs up to them and grabs Asset’s head. There is an electrical hum, a flash of white light and my head explodes with the most unbearable, searing pain I have ever know. I twist and writhe in the air above her as we scream in unison.

As quickly as it started, it’s over. My senses return, bleary and vague. I pull my essence back together as best I can, hanging in the air like a limp cloth, shaking. Below me, Asset’s eyes are wide, body limp. Her opponent's blood stains her hair in macabrely beautiful crimson streaks. I float down and settle on the floor across from her. The man lets go of her cautiously, turning away to spit out blood, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. Red-robot says something and the man glowers at him and snaps something in reply. He crouches beside Asset, binding her wrists and ankles with heavy-duty looking cuffs which he pulled from thin air – what is with the magic tricks?

He’s talking to Red-robot now, who is again free of the robot suit. I try to focus on the voices, but it’s difficult, my senses are blurry from the shock. “– does not make sense, but –“ The sound fades and garbles. “– what if I am right?”

The other guy looks unconvinced, “Whatever does it for ya, Reindeer Games; it’s your–“ “–put this one on the jet. Whether or not –”

Ah, I’ve lost it. Too shifty and jittery. I drift up, watching as Asset is loaded onto a stretcher and carted away. I watch Red-robot helping some lackies carry out a big crate, then everyone one is gone.

The man in green walks slowly to the centre of the hangar and lowers himself somewhat stifflyto the concrete. A fresh trickle of blood runs down his chin and he wipes it away absently; heaves a sigh, resettles into a cross-legged position and straightens his spine. He takes a deep breath and drops his head forward slightly, eyes closed. His aura billows and swirls; a waft of essence reaches outward, drifting, searching, like a person in a dark room might feel their way. I move closer, fascinated. What is he doing? A burning curiosity moves my finger toward to questing tendril. It winds itself gently around my finger, pooling in my palm, warm and soft. The pale green misty colour burnishes into a darker green tinged with ochre. There is such peace here, in this moment.

“I cannot see you, but I know you’re there.”

I stare at him, still holding the gently pulsing tendril of light – his light. He knows…? How is this happening? And how do I communicate with him?

“I can hear your voice. I felt you earlier, too, but I wasn’t sure what you were…” He tilts his head and the tendril of light twists in my fingers. “What are you?”

_I… I’m a ghost._

His eyebrows rise, “A ghost?”

_Yes…_

“Forgive my directness, but why are you still here?”

I frown, what does he mean, _Still here? Oh, like, not moved on to the next place? Because I can’t. I’m still connected to her._

“Who?”

_Asset. The one you just beat up._

He looks confused. “How… Never mind. Is Asset your name?”

 _No…_ _What they called her... Asset 47…_

I’m losing concentration, exhausted. The pain of her has lessened now she’s unconscious, but the horrible fried feeling of electrocution still fizzles through me.

“What’s your name?”

_Don’t remember…_

“Will you stay near her?”

_Yes…_

My fingers are coming apart, the solidarity of my form relaxing as my concentration wanes. He speaks again, but I can’t hear him. The tendril slips from my insubstantial grasp and melts back into the body of his aura. The world blurs and swirls as I succumb to the drift.


	4. Conversations with a God

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's not like it used to be, and that's a good thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nobody Sees - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YLIKlW1RIW8

The first thing I see is a white ceiling. Rolling over in the air, I look down at Asset, laid out on a table below me. Someone has draped a sheet over her body, preserving her dignity. I appreciate the gesture, but they needn’t have worried – she has no dignity left.

A stocky man with glasses and a lab coat is running some kind of scanner up and down her body, populating a hologram in the centre of the room. The door opens and two men enter. Are there no woman in this outfit? Jeez. I recognize one, from the robot suit. The other is tall, purple and has a glowing yellow thing in his forehead. I shift and stare at his aura – it’s wild and billowy, brightly coloured, almost electric-looking, like a storm cloud. Weird. They walk over to the hologram of Asset’s body. The lab-coat joins them. I drift closer, tuning my perception to hear their conversation. The guy from the robot-suit speaks first.

“I’ve never seen anything like this. What do you make of it, Bruce?”

Lab-coat – Bruce – takes off his glasses and polishes them, “It’s amazing. Cutting edge. I’ve never even _heard_ of anything like this, _anywhere_. I might even go so far as to say some of this tech is alien. The detail that has gone into the structure of the micro-neurons in her muscles, the bytes-per-second transmission is – “

“Bruce…”

“Right, sorry. She’s mostly human, about 30 years old. I say mostly because there are unrecognised elements in the DNA scan, I’m going to work on that later. So far no trace of any ID in any system, fingerprints, retinal scans everything comes up negative. Friday’s still running facial but the changes make it a bit unlikely that anything will turn up.”

“And the changes are…?”

Bruce grimaces, “Extensive.” He consults a list, “Her left kidney and some of the digestive tract – mostly small intestine – are gone. And of course, there’s the subdermal armour. It’s made from 3-D graphene, which speaks to how much money was available. Also, there are also various gadgets placed wherever they seemed to fit: aGPS module under her right lung, a network modem in her neck, an array of Li-Ion batteries tucked into her pelvic girdle. There’s some kind of electrical system strung throughout her entire body, culminating in a chip in her brain. It’s like a nervous system, but like nothing I’ve ever seen…”

Okay, enough of that. I don’t want to revisit those memories. It’s bad enough being back in a cold white room, floating above my helpless body, watching men talk about how interesting it is. I move away, through the wall and find myself outside, hovering about 2 floors above the ground. It’s a pretty neck of the woods, green and flourishing between the buildings, hangars, sheds, shipping containers; there are a few people around. There is a familiar energy signature coming from under a tree in the park-like area off to the south of this main building. I fly over the treetops, focussed on the slow-turning aura. The man from the hangar fight is sitting with his back to a tree, a book open on his knees. He’s not in green leather today, just casual jeans and a button-down shirt, dark hair loose around his face. His feet are bare, shoes lying haphazardly on the grass. As I settle onto the ground, he turns a page. His aura is relaxed, entwined with the tree and soaking the ground around him. I’ve never seen anyone so at peace with their surroundings.

I press my hands into the ground, feeling the deep harmony of the planet humming gently through me. It’s really beautiful out here. With Asset deactivated, I’m not plagued by the constant stinging, electric, energy-sapping ache that accompanies the computer’s activation and persists until it’s shut down. I can relax, drift with the wind. I’m about to turn my focus inward to do just that when I notice the man’s attention has shifted from his book. He’s still reading, but his aura has become more alert. Wait a minute… he sensed me before, in the hangar. Can he feel my presence here? I scoot closer, reach out and brush my finger against his aura. It shrinks away at the contact, and he jumps a mile. Oops.

_Um… Hello?_

His frown deepens and he sits back against the tree and closes his eyes. Like in the hangar, a tendril of essence reaches out, questing, feeling around in the empty air. I take it in my hand and he smiles slightly.

“Hello there, ghost.”

 _Sorry I made you jump,_ _haven’t had much practise with this whole communicating business._

“Don’t mention it. What brings you here?”

 _They’re examining Asset._ I push down the surge of revulsion and change the subject. _Recognised your energy from before. You’re different from the others..._

“Hmm.” He doesn’t elaborate.

 _What_ _do they want with her?_ I can’t help but wonder.

“Your body?” He shrugs, “I do not know.” He pauses, as if considering his next question, “May I ask, how long have you been cast out?”

 _I don’t know._ _Years? Time works differently for me._

“So I’ve discovered.” He taps the cover of the book he was reading, “Why could you not return to…?”

 _Her?_ _I_ _don’t know, exactly. I just can’t, and believe me, I’ve tried. Many times._ I sigh; not that I actually need to, because I don’t actually breathe, but it’s still a comforting feeling. _When she’s awake, it’s like running full tilt into a brick wall, and when she’s in stasis, it’s just… horrible, disgusting, revolting, like I-really-cannot-be-here-this-is-gross type feeling. And this world I’m in is run by intention, so if I can’t stand to be somewhere, I’m just not there. Make sense?_

“Yes.” The man nods slowly. “I must confess I’ve not met anything like you before. Are there others like you?”

 _Not_ _of which I_ _know. T_ _he doctor was_ _working with other people, trying the same things on them, but none survived.”_

“What did they do to you?”

I baulk, pulling back from the connection. _T_ _hings._

“I understand.” A flush of empathy washes through his aura in a soft wave, rippling across our connection and surprising me with it’s sincerity. This stranger really does understand; who is he? And why have I spoken so freely? Why do I feel like I can trust him? Why can he hear me, when no one else ever could? So many questions…

 _W_ _hat’s your name?_

“I am Loki.” Sadness chases pride across his face, “You may have heard of me?”

I think for a moment, _Nope, so_ _rry._

He brightens, “Really?” _  
__Y_ _eah_ _… but like I said, time works differently for me._ _I honestly don’t even know what year it is._

“2018. October.” Loki chews on his lip thoughtfully. I watch him for a moment. Why was he worried that I might know of him?

So, _what_ _place is this?_

“We are at the Avengers Compound, the home of ‘Earth’s Mightiest Heroes’.” He sounds rather condescending.

 _Heroes, huh? Well, why not._ _Are you one of them?_

“Not exactly...”

I stifle a giggle at his obvious embarrassment at being associated with the title. He continues, “I have a, er… recent history with humans for which I am not the most popular. But I have nowhere else to be, so here I am.”

I smile, _You talk like your not human._

He shrugs, “I am not.”

 _Ah_ _a_ _._ Everything clicks into place. The slow-turning aura, the sense of immense age and grandeur, the ability to communicate with me. Perhaps even why I trust him. I can see when people lie, their aura’s shake and twitch, and everything he’s said is true. Of course, there are different types of truth, but in the sense that he is saying what he believes to be the case, he’s been telling the truth. Of course, being other-worldly, I can’t be sure until I have a comparison, but… That’s for later. Right now, it’s enough that we can communicate.

 _I_ _f you can’t see me, how do you know I’m here?_

“Same way you feel it when being watched. And I do have skills in telepathy and magic, among other things, so…

_So that’s what happened in the hanger, when there were, like, ten of you? Magic?_

“Yes.”

 _Cool… So, you hear me in your mind, but_ _you’re talking out loud…?_

“Hmm. Habit, I suppose.” He laughs, and it warms my ethereal heart as nothing has in a long time.

An electronic beeping noise makes us both jumps. He picks up a device on the grass next to him and frowns. “Stark is requesting my presence in lab 7. That’s where they are keeping your body.”

Loki gets up, dusting himself off and pulling on his shoes. He pauses, then turns to where I am still floating. “Will you accompany me to see what Stark is up to with your body?”

I flinch, fighting back the flood of memories that threaten. No, I don’t care what he does to her, she has nothing to do with me any more. Not since…

Loki is looking around, probably wondering if I’m still here. On a whim, I touch me finger to his hand where it hangs by his side. He unconsciously rubs his thumbs across where I touched him, frowning. I wait for a second, then touch the same place again, concentrating on really feeling it. It a warm fuzzy tingle, like pleasant static electricity. Loki lifts his hand, staring at it blankly, then his eyes widen as the penny drops. He very deliberately holds up his index finger. I reach out, all my attention on touching my fingertip to his. There is that tingle, and he lets out an astonished huff.

“I feel you...” he breathes, “Do it again!”

I’m so happy at the enjoyable feeling of the contact, I press the palm of my hand into his. My hand buzzes and vibrates pleasantly. Loki chuckles with delight.

“Okay, one touch for yes, two for no, three for maybe, does this hurt you?”

I touch my fingertip to his twice, no.

“Will you accompany me to see what Stark is up to with your body?”

No.

“Why not?” He sits back down under the tree and closes his eyes, taking a few minutes to relax himself. I wait until his aura loosens and billows softly, then scoot closer and gently, softly touch my fingertip to his hand. His face lights up and his aura shifts, welcoming my touch, moulding itself until we are holding hands. I smile at the unconscious gesture.

_Thank you._

“Why?”

 _You felt my touch._ _Now, to answer your question, I’ve had enough of wafting about while men in white coats wax lyrical about how amazing Asset is. I’m sick of i_ _t! I don’t care any more! I hate her!_

So many times I’ve had to watch that scene play out. The memories flow, mingling one with the next. There are so many. The cold, hard weight of revulsion settles in my chest, lacing my form with black streaks. It’s so very similar in appearance to Asset’s wiring; that we share something so closely is disgusting. Anger and humiliation flow through me, the grain of my form agitates like rice on a drum. Loki is shaking too, jaw clenched and fists balled. My emotion has spilled through our connection, staining his beautiful aura with my hatred, my madness. My pain. No, this is wrong. He shouldn’t feel that. I pull away sharply, trying to pull my influence away from him as I go. Our connection disentangles like half-dried glue coming apart. With a snap, I’m alone again, lost in the wasteland of my emotions. What was I thinking, letting him talk to me? Trusting him?! How am I so stupid?! It was all locked away, blocked, forgotten, now it’s all coming back…

“Ghost?”

I look up from my whirlpool of torment to find Loki staring straight at me. What the…?

“Please don’t go.” He holds out a hand, inviting me to make contact again. Do I really want to? Do I dare…?

“I can sense you clearly now, sitting right there,” he leans forward, hand extended. I lean back, so his outstretched fingers don’t reach through my chest. “Please little ghost, do not be afraid of me.”

Afraid? Yes, I’m afraid. Of so many things. I touch my finger to his palm. _I’m not afraid of you._

He looks relieved.

 _I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to..._ _Y_ _ou shouldn’t have felt that..._

“Why not?”

 _Seriously? Because it has nothing to do with you._ _I had all that locked away and seeing the guys with Asset, it brought it back, and then you asked…_

“I am sorry.”

 _I know you guys are different; believe me, I d_ _o know that,_ _but that doesn’t change the fact that the body is being examined and I’m being ignored._

We sit in silence for a moment as I calm myself, systematically locking away the memories and emotions.

Eventually, Loki asks softly, “Do you want to re-inhabit her?”

I give a humourless laugh, _Yes. Of course, I do. But I can’t_ _get in._

He purses his lips in thought, “There might be a way. You said you have tried, but – and I don’t mean to brag – but that was before you were here. Let me explain the situation to Stark, see if he can help, or if he knows of anyone who can.”

I stay silent, pondering the offer. Do I really want to get back in, after everything that’s happened, everything she’s done? After so many years as a ghost, could I even live in a body again? I don’t know... I’m not getting my hopes up about it, but really –

“Will you allow me to plead your case?”

What have I got to lose that I haven’t lost already?

_Okay._

“Thank you.” He gets up and walks briskly toward the main building. I float up, following at a distance, watching his lanky form disappear into the foyer. I hover level with the second floor, waiting for him to make the journey to lab 7. I switch my perception and easily pick out his energy signature amongst the humans. It’s like watching a shark move through a school of fish; as Loki passes other people, his energy reaches out to them and touches theirs very lightly, before moving on. Like feeling the way in a dark room, trailing fingers across furniture and walls. It’s strangely reassuring.

He enters lab 7 just as I float through the window. Asset is still laying on the table, the hologram of her body and internal systems turns slowly in the air in the centre of the room. The guy known as Bruce, still in the lab-coat and glasses, is busy at a desk, and the other man from the robot suit, presumably Stark, is looking over his shoulder. They’re talking amongst themselves animatedly. Asset’s control laptop is open on the desk in front of them. The all-too-familiar revitalisation tank is standing against one wall, full of fluid. Drums of replacement fluid are stacked neatly against the wall, along with crates and boxes.

I watch as Loki walks up behind them silently and leans close over the Stark's shoulder, eyes sparkling with mischief.

“What d'I miss?”

Bruce yelps and the Stark jerks away, cursing, “Damn it, twinkle-toes! Next time you do that, I swear I will punch you in your perfect teeth.”

Loki gives the man a cocky grin, “You summoned me?”

“Yes,” Stark walks across to the table and gestures to the hologram, “Here she is.” He shakes his head sadly, “You really can pick ‘em. This one’s been through the wringer. Even Bruce doesn't know what we’re dealing with here.”

Bruce looks up from the computer, “I didn’t say that Tony, I said I’d never seen anything like it – ”

Tony waves a hand airily, “Same diff.” He turns back to Loki, “Look, you say there is more to this, whatever this is – “ he waves his hand to encompass Asset and the hologram – “than meets the eye. Care to fill us mere mortals in on the fine print?”

Loki moves closer to Asset, examining her sleeping face. He traces along the wires under Asset’s skin, from the central branch that appears at the base of her throat, along her shoulder and down her arm. His touch lingers on her hand, and he carefully turns it over, staring at it like it’s the most fascinating thing he’s ever seen. A five-strand ribbon runs over her wrist, splits across her palm, culminating in a loop that lays around the end of each digit.

Tony is watching him in disbelief. He exchanges a look with Bruce, who is also watching Loki with his mouth slightly open. I drift closer to them, curious at their reaction. The weight of their combined scrutiny makes Loki look up guiltily.

“What?”

Tony shrugs, still eyeing him shrewdly, “Oh, nothing. I’ve just never seen you so interested in… well, anything.”

Loki flinches, his aura retracting in shame, but he hides his discomfort with snark, “There’s very little around here that interests me.”

Tony rolls his eyes and changes the subject, “So, what’s with the android?”

It’s my turn to flinch. Android? Well, I suppose that’s what Asset is, to him. Loki steps over to the hologram and spins it around, stripping away layers until only the electronic implants remain; the e-Nerv, batteries, gyroscope, processors, etc. I’ve never seen it portrayed like that. It looks very organic, beautiful in a strangely futuristic way.

“I’ve seen this technology used before, but never in a human.” Loki isolates the image of the control chip and enlarges it. It resembles a pea pod, about 2 inches long and ½ an inch thick at it widest point, ridged with nodules. “When I was… before New York…” He glances at Tony, and I sense an abyss of regret below the his calm facade. “It is designed to control genetically engineered breeds of soldiers by giving the commander full control of an army, networking the soldiers into one multi-bodied unit, similar to how bees swarm and respond to a single queen. In the tongue of those who designed it, it is known as the spirit-killer. I have no idea how such a device ended up on Earth, let alone how this young woman is able to survive with it in her system.”

“Survive?” Tony sounds incredulous. “She nearly handed us our asses.”

Loki shakes his head thoughtfully, “That was the spirit-killer’s work, not hers.”

“Come again?”

Loki gestures to Asset, “By surviving, this is not to whom I refer. This is what happens to the body of one implanted with the device. They become a slave, a soldier, whatever is programmed. But there is another, a ‘ghost’, as she calls herself. I sensed her in the hangar before this one attacked us, and I spoke to her afterwards. She is… something else.”

Bruce polishes his glasses industriously, “I don’t get it, what do you mean a ‘ghost’?”

Loki sighs, “Are you familiar with the idea of a soul?”

Bruce shrugs, “Yeah, sure, I guess…”

“Well, humans have souls. The creatures this technology was designed for do not. Possibly, when it was implanted into a human, it’s activation caused some kind of conflict. This woman’s soul was evicted from her body. Somehow, she survived, living as a shadow, trapped between existence and death.”

“Oh my god…” Bruce looks at Tony, then back at Loki, “Is she still, I don’t know, alive? Dear God, what kind of life must that be…”

Loki grins, “Yes, she’s alive; she’s standing next to you.”

Bruce starts and looks around wildly. Tony snorts and rolls his eyes, “You see, this is why I don’t trust you, Antlers. You get all sincere, and I think you might _actually_ be genuine, and then you pull this nonsense.”

“I _am_ being sincere, Stark.” Loki’s voice is cold, “It’s not my fault you lack the sensitivity to notice the changes in your own environment. But then, you never were very perceptive.” He turns away with a sneer.

Tony narrows his eyes at Loki’s back, a muscle twitching in his jaw, “Friday, give me a readout of environmental changes within this room over the last 30 minutes.”

“Right away, boss.”

One of the computer screen lights up, showing various graphs. “There has been a decline in ambient temperature since Mr Odinson’s arrival, but he is not the cause. It is centred around this area…” The screen shows a view from a security camera in the corner, a green outline highlighting the exact place I’m floating.

I stare at the screen in amazement. What the hell kind of censors does this lab have that it can pick up temperature changes so precisely? I drift to the left, stopping a few feet away. After a second, the outline shifts, following my movement. Oh, wow… I rise straight up to the ceiling. A few seconds later, the outline rises out of the camera view. Oh, this is so cool! I waft down, slow enough that the outline can track me, and approach Tony. I stop an arms-length away, wait for the outline to settle around where I stand, and then reach out my hand toward him. The outline extends toward him on the monitor. Tony sucks in a breath and looks across to where I am. I touch his shoulder. He shivers and steps back, looking from the empty space next to him, to the monitor and back. I retract my hand, and the outline follows. Not wanting to push him too much, I back away to the window, giving him space.

Loki chuckles, “Do you believe me now, Stark?”

“I… got some work to do, be up in R&D.” Tony claps Bruce on the shoulder and turns to Loki. “I’m not saying I believe you, not entirely, but I can’t explain what just happened...” He glances over to where I float.

“And you just cannot stand an enigma.” Loki smiles knowingly. Tony gives him an exasperated look and walks to the door. Bruce watches the other man leave and then glances at Loki, but the latter has turned back to examining Asset’s hologram. I drift over to him, finding comfort in the slow swirl of his energy, It's grounding, not like the fast, often erratic spin of normal people. I’m tired after so much activity. It’s been a really long time since anywhere near as much happened in one day. I’m with people who, if not believe I’m real, at least don’t disbelieve it. And then there’s Loki. The first coherent conversation I’ve had in years.

I drift up to float against the ceiling, my favourite place to nap. I watch as Loki peruses the hologram. For some reason I can’t explain, it doesn’t disgust me the way it usually does when I’m watching someone work on Asset. There is no hatred, no revulsion, no fear. For the first time in a long time, I’m at peace. I slip into the drift, a smile on my face.


	5. Fall and Rise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You did your best, what more can you do?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Beast - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R9QPY_UgWr8

  


_Tony rigs up some gadgetry that allows Ghost to communicate by affecting sensitive equipment with her electrical nature. He agrees to her request to be reintegrated with her body, and they seek the help of Dr Strange, who tells them it’s possible but tricky and unprecedented._

_The good Doctor shows her how to prepare herself for physical inhabitation again, after so many years of living in the drift, as she calls it. Ghost prepares herself to reintegrate with her physical body, which is being kept in its revitalisation tank. During this time, she learns to trust the team, even helping them occasionally._

_Bruce and Loki study Asset’s unique biochemistry and metabolism as best they can, trying to understand the spirit-killer and the other implants, how they affect Asset and how their removal could be arranged._

_6 months pass..._

_Black Widow finds a hidey-hole for some bad guys, finds out there are only 24 hours to get them before they move out. Everyone else is busy or away, so she enlists the assistance of Loki, who in turn asks Ghost to accompany them; she agrees, offering to help them with reconnaissance._

_In a run-down apartment block, at night..._

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I swoop down through the floors, screaming, _No, no, no! Loki, Loki, Loki!_ Concrete and metal flash past me in a blur. I crash through the ceiling in the basement, where Loki is helping Natasha free the hostages.

_LOKI!_

He spins around, and I throw my memory at him, not caring about subtly or finesse. He staggers back against the wall, eyes wide, then gasps to Nat, “There’s a kid on the roof.”

He throws his arms out, fists clenched tight, then abruptly crosses them over his chest. Darkness, flecked with green highlights, swallows him up. I kick off, streaking upward through the building to the roof, arriving a split second after Loki. The dark cloud closes behind him. The kid backs away toward the edge of the roof.

“Stay back, mister!”

“As you wish.” Loki pauses, hands open. “We mean you no harm.”

“Yeah right.” The kid glances over his shoulder, judging the distance from the edge, and shuffles back a few steps.

“Please,” Loki reaches out to him, green flickers dance on his fingertips, “I know what you’re thinking, but it’s not worth it. Please…”

“You don’t know anything!” The young man shouts, “You don’t know what’ll happen to me when my dad finds out I’ve been caught.”

“We can protect you – “

“Bullshit! You can’t protect anyone! You’re just a bunch of weirdos!”

He steps onto the ledge. I flit around in front of him, throwing myself against him, focusing all my energy on keeping him back from the edge. He falters for a second, and I think that maybe he’ll step back, but just he pushes forward and steps off the roof. His body rushes through me with a horrible grating sensation that tears me apart. As I draw myself back together, I see that Loki is sprawled across the roof, one arm over the edge, hand closed on the collar of the kid’s jacket.

“Let me go!” the kid struggles in the makeshift harness of his jacket.

“Don’t do this!” Loki shouts desperately, “It’s not worth it, please!”

The kid stops his struggling and looks up at Loki. “Fuck you,” he whispers and slips out of the jacket. I watch in horror as he falls. His soul separates from his body before it even hits the ground, hangs frozen in the air for a second, face locked in a silent scream, then vanishes.

I turn back to Loki, who is still holding the jacket. He climbs slowly to his feet and folds the jacket neatly, tucks it under one arm and walks slowly back to the stairwell door. I drift behind him, still in shock at the kid's determination to end his life, and what is happening to Loki’s aura. His energy is spinning out of control, twisting and thrashing. Black streaks spiral out from a core of darkness around his heart and I recognise with horror the signs of multifaceted self-hatred. I’ve seen it too often in myself.

I reach out to him tentatively, _Loki? Talk to me?_

His aura pulls away, a sharp black spike lashing out at me. I recoil in shock as Loki hisses, “Piss off, Ghost.” He breaks the lock, slamming the door behind him. His footsteps echo as he trots down the stairs. I hang frozen in the air for a moment, then drop like a stone through the building to where Nat is waiting. The transcript pad is lying on a crate. I write hastily, _Look out, he’s pissed._ Natasha reads my note, nods, then swipes the page clean.

The door bursts open and Loki strides through the room and through to where the gang is waiting, hand-cuffed and seated against the wall.

“Which one of you had a son here tonight?” Loki addresses the room at large.

A rugged man in his 50s looks up, “Where is he?”

Loki walks slowly up to the man and drops the folded jacket on the floor at his feet. The guy looks from the jacket to Loki and back in confusion, then his face crumples, “I don’t understand. Where is my son?”

Loki stares down at him, “He’s in the street on the north side of the building.” I flinch at the literal description, the memory of the kid's broken body framed in blood flashing unbidden in my mind.

“ _What_ …?”

“Would you like to see?”

The man just stares up at Loki, who places his hand on the man’s forehead. There is a concentrated exchange of energy between them, and I watch in fascination as Loki projects his visual memory into the man’s mind.

The exchange is over as abruptly as it began. Loki stands, turning away from the man who is sobbing quietly, “My son, no, not my son…”

Loki pauses, still linked with the man’s mind, and when he speaks his voice is cold, “Maybe you should have thought of that earlier…”

He leaves the man to mourn, brushing past Nat and walking quickly to the door. Nat pauses a second, a frown on her face, then turns runs after him.

“Loki!”

He stops at the foot of the stairs up to the street, “What?”

“What happened?”

“The adolescent chose to face death over the consequences of his capture.”

Natasha shakes her head in confusion, “You’re supposed to be magic, right? You vanished in a flash! Why didn’t you save him?”

Loki’s whirls around and snarls at Natasha, “You know nothing of magic, what it takes to wield it, how it works!”

“Oh yeah?” Natasha crosses her arms, “Enlighten me then. Why didn’t you stop him falling?”

 _“Because he wanted to die!”_ Loki shouts at her. Anger distorts his face, but his aura twists in a different kind of torment.

Natasha flips her hair back defiantly. I’m impressed with her coolness in the face of Loki’s hostility. “What’s that got to do with it? Since when do you care about free will?”

Loki’s voice drops to a dangerous whisper. If he was angry before, now he’s positivity livid. It radiates from him with such force I am pushed back against the wall. He stalks toward Natasha, fists clenched, “Free will? You question my belief in _free will_? You think I do not respect it? Why, because I controlled your precious Barton for a few days? May I remind you that I was tortured and controlled for _years_! But you don’t care about that, do you? You think I _deserved_ _it_ _!”_

Natasha quails under his glare and opens her mouth to protest, but Loki snaps, “Don’t lie to me! Do you forget who I am? I see the truth in your eyes. You cannot forgive nor forget, so be it. I’m done trying to make you understand.”

He storms up the stairs and into the night. Natasha stands frozen for a moment, brows knitted, then turns and walks slowly back to the other room. I scoot ahead and write on the tablet, _“You okay?”_

She smiles when she reads it, “Yeah, I’ve seen worse. How about you? What happened up there?”

 _“_ _I’m okay. The kid freaked out, jumped. Loki caught his jacket, tried to talk sense to him but he wouldn’t listen. Wiggled free and fell.”_

“Holy shit. Dedicated follower, hey.”

 _“_ _He implied the consequences of his capture would be dire. Apparently from his father. Don’t quite get it. He was petrified, desperate, single-minded in his…”_ I wait for Natasha to read the page, then swipe it clean and continue, _“determination to not get caught. I tried to push him a_ _way from the edge_ _too, but not much I can do from here. You can tell his father if you want, that his son…”_ I clear the page again, _“has moved on. His soul separated before he hit the ground. He’s gone. I can’t say if it’s to_ _someplace_ _better, but you might not want to share that with him.”_

Nat nods, “Thanks hon, it might give him some peace of mind.”

 _“_ _I would like to go after Loki if you don’t need me here…”_

“I’ve got this under control. You go on.”

 _“_ _Thanks.”_ On a whim, I add _x o_

Nat smiles warmly and waves her hand in the air, shooing me away, “Go on, get outta here!”

I gather myself and shoot away, up through the walls and out into the night air. The city is laid out below me like an illuminated map, but I see so much more than lights. Wifi and cellphone networks, radar from the airports, radio waves, electricity underground and strung through buildings, TV broadcasts. The world is awash with layers upon layers of frequencies, all jostled together, filling the space from the ground to the clouds, and beyond.

I focus, shutting out all the noise and vibrations, searching for the one energy signature I can recognise anywhere. I pivot slowly in the air, sifting through the flotsam and jetsam of human communication until I find it. On the outskirts of the city, in a desolate part of a rundown suburb, a vacant park. Under a tree. Of course.

I settle softly onto the ground. I move closer and his illusion magic extends around, wrapping me in its spell. Now we are both hidden from the eyes of the world, not that it makes much difference to me; I’m permanently hidden.

_Loki?_

He jumps, then and lets out a breath, “Ghost. How did you find me?”

_I followed you. I’m sorry, I don’t mean to intrude. Do you want me to leave you alone?_

He snorts, “It’s not like I could make you.”

I sigh, _No, but I would respect your request._

“And for that I thank you.” He rests his head in his hands, taking deep, steadying breaths. I drift up, reticent to leave him in this state, but knowing that it’s more important to respect his decision, despite my own feelings on the subject. His aura is still in turmoil, spiky and wild, spinning fast for a few seconds, then reversing and washing back on itself, like rapids in a stream. The last thing he needs is to be left alone. He’s been alone too long, internalising his grief and guilt, letting it eat he alive. But I can’t force him to change.

Just as I reach the treetops, he calls out, “Ghost?”

_Yes?_

“Stay?” His voice is strained like he’s holding back tears. I settle next to him again and put my arm around his shoulder.

_I’m here for you. I will always be here._

His face crumples and he puts a hand over his eyes, a suppressed sob shakes his shoulders. I let my form melt a little, spreading across his back like warm mist. We sit in silence for a while. Sadness pulls at my heart as I watch Loki struggle with his feelings, but I push it away, not wanting him to feel it from me. He needs acceptance and understanding, not pity. I know how devastating it is to be a bystander in your own life. From the sounds of it, Loki had it worse, because he was mind-controlled while being still present and correct in his body. He didn’t have the luxury of disassociation like I had with Asset.

When he’s calmed down somewhat, I murmur, _You don’t have to, but it helps to talk about it._

He heaves a ragged sigh, “That child…”

_Did he remind you of you?_

Loki looks at me incredulously, “How do you know that?”

I shrug, _Just an educated guess. Please tell me your truth._

Loki snorts, “My truth. Well, I was young and stupid, that’s my truth.” He paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts.

“Odin picked Thor as his successor, but it seemed that only I could see he was not ready, was not capable of handling the responsibility of being king. So I tried to exploit his weakness for war, tried to demonstrate to our father that he was not ready. But the plan didn’t quite work out. It was during this time that I learned of my true parentage. My brother was exiled, learned a few hard lessons and came back a better man. I didn’t see that at the time. I was consumed with anger and doubt, for myself and for the philosophy of life I had been raised to follow.

Loki’s aura calms as he talks, settling into muted hues of sadness and nostalgia. “When my brother returned, we fought; the Bifrost was destroyed, I slipped off the end of the bridge. As I hung above the void, I felt like there was no reason to keep trying. My plan had failed, I now knew I was descended from monsters, for my actions I would doubtlessly be exiled myself. I believed I had nothing left to lose, so I let go.”

He barks a laugh and looks up at the night sky, “Oh, how wrong I was. I fell through the Void and was caught by a creature known as The Other. But that’s another story.”

He shakes his head as if to clear away the memory. “That kid jumped to his death because he thought he had nothing left to lose. I saw his fear of reprimand and the loss of his father’s respect for him. The sad part is that he had made these beliefs up on his own, his father had never threatened him with anything if he failed a mission. But he believed it with such conviction, he even managed to thwart my attempts to catch him with magic. It’s possible if he had had the chance, that he might have made a passable sorcerer. But I suppose we’ll never know.”

He sniffs and looks over to where I sit. “So tell me, now you know the truth, how did you guess it?”

_By the way you reacted to the kid; how you tried to save him even when he made his choice; the self-hatred and shame, and regret when he fell._

“Wow, you really do not mince your words, do you?”

_Hey, you asked!_

“Sometimes I wish I could read people as you can,” he murmurs, voice tinged with sadness.

I frown, _But you can, like, read their thoughts, and tell if they’re lying…_

He nods slowly, “But you see them for who they really are. All the good, all the bad; their true nature, in all it’s terrible beauty.”

_I guess…_

After a few moments of silence, I ask, _H_ _ow does your magic work_ _?_

Loki smiles wanly, “Magic is based on belief and intention. Every realm has it’s own form, or power structure to its magic. Midgard’s magic is rather subdued because so few people believe it’s possible. The sorcerers here, like Strange and his kind, must spend many years dedicated to changing their beliefs. On Asgard, that was not the case, so it was merely a person’s natural ability and then years of study to perfect various techniques and disciplines within the art-form.

“Ever since my brother established New Asgard here on Earth, my magic has been behaving differently. It’s based in this realm now because Asgard is no more. I still have all my ability and training, but the substance of the magic itself is different here. It’s slower acting, more subtle, almost… thicker. Summoning the portal to the roof was exhausting, like trying to swim through mud. And the humans have a far greater influence on it. So when that boy chose to die, with all his being…” Loki’s voice cracks and he turns his face away abruptly. “I could not stop him. He would not let me. I failed.”

 _Loki, look at me,_ I whisper. When he doesn’t move, I drift closer and place my hand against his cheek, focusing my determination in the touch. The magnetic pressure buzzes against my skin and I press harder into it. Loki turns his head toward me, incredulity etching his features.

“How – ”

 _You just said how great it is that I can see people’s true nature? Well, s_ _top_ _trying to_ _hid_ _e_ _your true self from me. Tears are nothing of which to be ashamed._

“You do not think them weakness?” He asks in a small voice, a haunted look crossing his face. For an instant I glimpse a frightened boy, stifling his emotions in the face if his father’s disapproval and his brother’s derision.

_No, I don’t._

“Father did.”

_He was wrong._

Loki huffs a laugh, “Don’t let him hear you say that.”

 _Let him hear me!_ My indignation f lares , _I wish he were still alive, so I could give him a good talking to about the virtues of patience and understanding when it comes to raising a child, especially_ _one_ _a_ _s_ _perceptive and artistic as yourself. Thor is a brut_ _e_ _and I’_ _m sure he_ _handle_ _d_ _all the t_ _ough_ _love_ _for which your_ _family was famous, but you, Loki, are nothing like the rest of them!_

Loki’s staring at me, gobsmacked. I try to calm myself. _Sorry, got carried away there._ _Guess I have strong feelings when it comes to you!_ I laugh, trying to lighten the atmosphere, but Loki continues to stare at me thoughtfully. I fidget, uncomfortable under his scrutiny, even if he can’t actually see me. _What?_

“No one’s ever spoken like that about me, not even Mother.”

_Well…_

“Thank you.”

_Anytime._


	6. Thunder and Lightning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I want to show you how it feels.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Whole of the Moon - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sBW8Vnp8BzU

__

_Another few months have passed_ _…_

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I love thunderstorms!

The air crackles and dances with electricity, but not the kind that hurts me; the kind that makes me feel _alive_. I pull away from the book I am reading, leaving the library and flying through the hallways of the compound, searching. I want Loki to be there. Now we’ve established the kinaesthetic link, I want to share it with him.

He’s hunched over a table in lab 3, working through test results for something he and Bruce are concocting. He looks frustrated, chin propped on his fist, staring at the page, brows drawn down.

_Loki?_

He doesn’t look up, “What?”

My excitement gets the better of me, _There’s a storm coming!_

“I am aware.”

I shrink away, hurt by his clipped tone. What was I thinking, coming here?

 _O_ _f course you are.  
_

I leave the room via the nearest wall. What wrong with me?! What am I, a lovesick teen? So what if he doesn’t come, I can still enjoy the storm alone. Like always.

I look back for a second, but no, I won’t go back. Just as the lab door opens I flit through the stairwell door and put on a burst of speed, spiral up the stairwell and pop out onto the roof. Technically I can just fly straight up, through the stairs, but spiralling is fun, and I like the idea of precision flying.

The air is cool, tastes of the promise of rain and is charged with static. It buzzes pleasantly against my skin, through my form, humming in my head and vibrating in my body. I float upward, letting the charge flow into me, feeling it pulse and build.

The door to the stairwell bursts open and Loki stumbles out, looking around wildly.

“Ghost?”

I turn to him but freeze when I see that he is looking at me. Not the vague I-kinda-know-you-should-be-about-here-ish way he usually has. Right at me. His mouth opens and closes a few times before he whispers, “I see you…”

 _It's_ _the storm. The lightning, the electricity in the air. It charges me._

Loki is lost for words. I float closer, hand extending, glowing softly in the twilight. He meets me halfway, our fingers touching. I stifle a laugh at the _E.T._ ness of the moment as he stares at my hand in amazement.

 _What do_ _I_ _look like?_

“...What?”

I roll my eyes at him, _Me, what do I look like?_

He quirks an eyebrow, “Can’t you see yourself?”

 _I see myself all the time, genius,_ _but_ _I don’t know how I look to you or anyone else. To me,_ _right now_ _I just look a little more solid_ _than usual, but for you, I’ve gone from being invisible to not. So, what do you see?_

He swallows, “I see… an angel. A shining human form. There are no details, really, but your eyes…” He shakes his head slightly, “are like exploding stars.”

I lift my other hand, trailing it through the air. Loki continues, “It is… you are breathtakingly beautiful.”

I look away, suddenly shy.

He steps closer, looking up into my face. It’s so strange to have such direct eye contact. “I am sorry I snapped at you earlier. Any excuse would be irrelevant because I know that I hurt you, and I regret that most sincerely.”

_It’s okay._

He touches my cheek. The pleasant buzz of contact zips through my face, sending a shiver through my body.

“It never fails to astound me how, after all you’ve been through, you can forgive so easily.”

_Everyone has bad days, even gods._

He grins and turns away, looking up at the storm. “So, why did you come looking for me?”

 _I… I wanted to share this with you because I’ve known nothing like it, and as far as I know, only I can do it._ _S_ _orry if I’m overstepping or anything, you must have a history with storms and your brother, I just –_

“Ghost – ”

I snap my mouth shut.

He takes my ethereal hands in his, “I would be honoured to share a thunderstorm with you.”

Just then the heavens open. Loki gasps and hunches in shock as the torrential downpour soaks through his shirt in seconds. I burst out laughing.

_The gods approve!_

Loki gives a snort, pushing wet hair off his face, “Just the one, I think. And I do not need his approval.”

I laugh harder, throwing out my arms and rolling over in the air, all the stress and uncertainty washed away with the rain. It feels so good! I lie in the air, letting the water fall through me. It tickles. I look at Loki upside-down; he’s hunched over against the rain, but his eyes twinkle with mirth as he watches me. He’s actually seeing me; could I ever get used to that? Lightning strike over the city and I shiver at the wash of power.

 _The storm’s getting closer._ _I want to show you how it feels._

Our kinaesthetic link establishes and I feel his perception wash through me, the feel of cold rain, wet clothes, the wind on his face. I reverse the feed, sending my experience to him. I let go of all my fears and worries, none of that matters now. This is pure. This is me and him and the rain.

I concentrate; time slows and I see every drop, lazily drifting downward. The rain passes through my body, cutting a path through my essence, a part of it and yet not part of it at all. Each droplet touches me, changing me with it’s little bit of otherness. My form tingles and tickles with life and energy.

Lightning strikes the ground some miles away and a surge of residual power flows outward from the strike, like ripples in a pond, transferred from one raindrop to the next in an ever-expanding wave. Like a wave on the beach, it passes through me, and by association through Loki. I hear him gasp as the tingling high washes past us and outward, dissipating through the air. Another strike, closer this time, sends an even more powerful wave through us. It catches me up and tumbles me like flotsam on a breaker, twisting and expanding as the ecstatic feeling washes through me. As it recedes, I notice Loki has staggered back a few steps with the wave as well, arms out, head thrown back, laughing mouth open wide, eyes closed.

 _Are you okay?_ I call softly.

“Yeah…” He blinks away the rain and grins up at me, “This is phenomenal.”

I laugh at his tone, _You ain’t seen nothin’ yet!_

He starts to reply when another strike sends a wave of elation clashing through me and he cries out and falls to his knees.

_Loki?!_

“I’m fine… Just need a minute…”

I pull away from our link, weakening the connection.

“No, no, no! Please don’t!” He flops onto the roof, gasping for breath. “I’ll just stay down here. Not so far to fall.”

_How does it feel?_

“Like nothing I have ever known.” He shades his eyes from the rain and looks up to where I drift in the wind, wafting and circling gently. “Like I should be floating around like that too, only I cannot. Too heavy.” His head drops back onto the ground and he closes his eyes. “The only thing that could remotely compare to this is – “

Lightning strikes a tree near the river, energy crashes through me, stronger than I’ve ever felt before. We howl in unison as the tsunami of energy crashes through me with unstoppable force, blowing me apart, scattering my essence through the air, mingling with the water drops and cascading through the ether. It takes a moment to pull myself back together from that one, and when I do, Loki is spread-eagle on the roof, panting, fingers twitching.

_Are you alright?_

He nods, seemingly beyond words, eyes shut tight. The main body of the storm has passed now. When the rain eases Loki sits up, wiping the water from his face. His eyes are bright, despite his bedraggled appearance. The shirt clings to his chest and back, showing off lean musculature; I shake my head sharply and look away. What am I doing? I can’t think like that.

 _How_ _was it?_ I ask, feigning nonchalance.

“That was easily one of the best things I have ever experienced, if not _the_ best.”

_Oh come on, you’re thousands of years old. That’s can’t be true._

He gives me a look, “Are you questioning my judgement?”

_No, I’m questioning your authenticity, Trickster._

“Ah yes, that.” He sinks into the edge of the roof, dangling his feet over the empty air and sighs heavily.

I cringe at the sad resignation in his voice and float down to sit beside him. _Sorry, I’m being a jerk. I just have trouble believing that something as simple as a lighting storm could be so impactful. Especially for you! I mean, you have the_ _god of lightning for a brother._

“I understand your misgivings. It is the downfall of my title and my reputation that people often don’t take me seriously when I’m being serious.”

I place a transparent hand over his where it grips the roof edge. _I’m sorry._ _I take you seriously, I promise. Want to run that line by me again?_

He turns to me, but a frown crosses his face, “You’re fading.”

_Yeah, the storm’s gone. I’m going back to normal. Don’t change the subject._

“I didn’t.”

I roll my eyes, but he doesn’t see it. A disappointed ache pulls at my heart. _You_ _were saying…?_

“I swear, that was one of the most beautiful things I have ever had the privilege of experiencing. It was pure and glorious and so alive. And I would never have been able to experience that without you.” His lips twitch into a warm smile, “I am eternally thankful that you chose to share this with me. It was…” He looks out over the grounds.

 _What_ _…?_

“Magnificent, overwhelming, oddly – “ He clears his throat, “Would you ever forgive me if I were to say blissful?”

I chuckle and bump my should against his, sending a tingling wash through my body. He shivers, too. _No forgiveness is necessary. That’s why I wanted to share it with you._

A small smile twitches his lips. “Thank you, Ghost.”

_You are most welcome._

We sit in silence on the edge of the roof as the rain peters out. It’s the happiest I’ve felt in a long, long time.


	7. The Beast Within

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I can't do this without you...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Living in the Shadows - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q_5xeZV4ifE

__

_After much consideration, Doctor Strange and Ghost find a way to get her back into her body. It's tricky and exacting. If they stuff up, she'll die. Presuming they get it right, she then has to take over control from the inside. After the procedure, she is left in the Hulk's old holding cell as a precaution, in case she's not in control when she wakes up...  
_

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So this is what it’s like to be in my own head? It’s been so long, I can’t remember. I concentrate on the feeling of it, the heaviness, the solidity. I can feel the wires, humming under my skin, but it’s less of a pain than simply knowing they’re there. I turn my attention outwards, but I hear nothing. I’m lying on a hard surface. I try to open my eyes, but I can’t. Can’t move either…?! Okay, calm down. Strange said this might happen, that it might take a while to gain control again. That’s why they put me in the containment unit, after all. Deep breaths. Feel the body. Inhale… Exhale… Inhale… Ex–

My concentration is broken by the appearance of a small luminous green bar, blinking slowly in the top left corner of my vision. Uh-oh… It moves, and text appears before my closed eyes, scrolling like code on a monitor:

**Anomaly detected.**

**Asset 47 emergency boot-up initiated...**

After a pause, the text continues:

**System reset detected, time/date unreliable.**

**Three-step verification voided.**

**Scanning biological system...**

**Vitals stable.**

**All internal devices present and functional.**

**Battery: eco mode, 24%, discharging.**

**Searching for Home Server...**

**Home Server out of range.**

**Scanning for networks...**

**Networks out of range.**

**Activating GPS...**

Assets eyes open; I look at the world through physical eyes for the first time in years. Was it always this blurry? Such a limited field of view… A heads-up display super-imposes on my visual field; horizon line, gyroscope, battery icon, lots of other hi-tech stuff I don’t understand... A circular crosshair skips around, settling for an instant on the glass walls, the ceiling, the vents… Asset’s head turns. An hourglass icon is flipping over at regular interval in the bottom corner of the display. Now it stops and declares,

**GPS blocked.**

**Active protocol: Flying blind.**

Asset rises to her feet in fluid movement. Whoever did the motion design on her systems, they did a really good job. She feels graceful, poised, but also on edge. I push myself through her body, realigning the ethereal with the physical, linking with her as best I can. It still feels distant, like she’s a puppet and I’m just along for the ride. But that’s okay for now, maybe when I get more used to the feeling, I’ll be able to find a loophole. Asset prowls around the perimeter of the containment chamber, bare feet silent on the cool steel floor. She places one hand flat on the curved glass of the chamber, pulls back the other arm and punches the glass. I recoil in anticipation of the pain, but I feel nothing from the action. Wait, does she even feel pain? Or am I not linked with her enough? The display shows a strength and integrity reading for the glass. It’s pretty impressive, but then that’s why we’re in here.

There’s a click and crackle of static, then Stark’s voice echoes through the chamber, “Hey there Motoko, how’s it goin’?”

Asset spins around, crosshairs alighting on the speaker in the wall. She stares at it. I throw myself forward, trying to break through the invisible barrier between us, trying to show that I’m in here, I’M HERE! But nothing I do makes an impression.

“Okay, good to hear.”

I flinch and the sarcasm, but Asset turns away from the speaker, continuing her prowl of the perimeter, scanning, searching for any weakness or exploitable feature in the bare, circular cell.

“Yeah, I think we’ll just leave you two be for a while, let you get reacquainted. Let me know if you need anything, ‘kay?”

Ha bloody ha. Asset stops at the door, running her hand up the seal, but then moves on. I concentrate on feeling her, linking my perceptions with her body, feeling the weight on her feet and the brush of hair on her neck, the breath moving in her chest and the regular blink of her eyes. I push gently, trying to slide between the computer and the body, trying to assert my will over the muscles, but to no avail.

Hours pass uneventfully. The display clock, which was reset to zero, now reads 00:00:00:00:08:42:13. The last two digits are seconds. What the hell kind of clock is this, does it count years? Thank gods it reset. I don’t want to know how long it’s been since Asset was booted up. I’ve been stuck in here for over 8 hours, and I’m no closer to getting through. DAMN IT!

Asset has given up looking for an escape and is sitting bolt upright facing the door, the targeting dot skipping around randomly, like some kind of screensaver. Gods damn it, I can’t even look away from her eyes. I’m stuck inside her, looking out at the same patch of featureless wall and door for the last few hours. I can’t even extend myself like I used to, can’t feel anything beyond this body.

Frustration and rage explode through me, and Asset’s head jerks back like she'd been slapped. Immediately red text flashes across the display:

**Alert! System instability detected. Scanning...**

More text scrolls madly, listing files as they are scanned. Great, it thinks I’m a virus. But on the upside, I did make an impression. Let’s get really angry and try it again… It thinks I’m a virus… Does it think I’m a virus?! Does it think I’m a Virus?! ME?! A FUCKING VIRUS?!

Asset flinches as my rage increases, twisting her head side to side, jittery and uncontrolled. Her eyelids twitch and flutter, mouth twisting into a grimace. It’s working! I’m getting through!

**ERROR! System instability critical.**

**Collecting data for crash dump...**

**Caching log file...**

**Memory dump complete.**

**Encrypting disk...**

**Disk encryption complete.**

**Restarting...**

Asset slumps back against the wall with a sigh as all systems shut down. After a few seconds, the display flashes.

**Asset 47 safe-mode boot-up initiated...**

**System reset detected, time/date unreliable.**

**Three-step verification voided.**

**Scanning biological system...**

**Vitals stable.**

**All internal devices present and functional.**

**Battery: eco mode, 18%, discharging.**

**Activate protocol: Ghost purge.**

What the –

Hot burning pain of overcharged wiring rushes through me. It feels like I’m slowly disintegrating, my essence combusting in the confines of Asset’s body. I scream in agony as I am consumed by her fire. This is worse than ever before, worse than the enhancements, worse than the experiments, because I’m trapped inside her, and she’s charging up. There is a distracting hum in, and buzzing in her body as the power accumulates in the wires. It feels like an eternity before it dissipates, the display showing a completion message and successful purge readout. I’m too exhausted to care.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Time passes. Every time Asset reboots, the clock is reset, so I have no idea how long I’ve been here, trying all the ways I can think of to gain back control. Has it been days? Weeks? I stare at the floor, not seeing it, trying to drift as best I can while stuck inside a living straight jacket. I haven’t rested properly in so long...

Asset’s head snaps up as the door hisses open. Loki steps smoothly through, the door closing on his heels with a snap. Asset rises slowly, gracefully. I watch Loki as he takes slow, purposeful steps around the wall, and Asset sidles around in the opposite direction, always keeping as far from him as possible, always keeping him in the centre of her field of view.

“I know you can hear me,” He’s watching Asset closely, but I do not dare make her presence known, “I’ve been watching your progress over the last few days. Seems this one’s giving you trouble,” He gestures to Asset, who snarls at him. He grins, “So I thought I’d come and distract her for a while.”

He stops the circling and takes a deliberate step toward Asset, who drops into a fighting pose. Loki takes another step, then charges at her, a knife appearing in his hand as he swipes and slashes at her. Asset dodges and weaves, her speed and athleticism keeping her out of the path of Loki’s blade. She strikes at him when the opportunity arises, but mostly she just avoids his blows, the algorithm tracking his moves, laying down a fight style and pattern, preparing a counter-attack. It is the most glorious feeling, being carried along inside her body as she doges and weaves. Her strength, precision and training are incredible. I feel Loki’s hot breath on her skin occasionally, feel his body against hers as they fight in a close hand-to-hand style, with barely any space between them, a beautiful deadly dance. If it weren’t for the context, I would be proud of what she can do.

After a few minutes, Loki backs away, breathing hard. Asset starts to circle him slowly, head poised, body angled toward him, on the alert and yet oozing confidence. Her breathing is deep but calm. The computer finishes processing the fight and spits out a list of moves and counter-moves, text flowing up the display almost too fast fro me to read it.

Asset charges this time, feinting and punching. They have at it, perfectly matched, but then she starts gaining on Loki, following the prompts from the data-bank. I see his face change from confident to concentrated, as he switches from offence to defence. She dodges outside a strike to her jaw and grabs his wrist; before he can break her hold, she pulls his arm straight and slams her forearm into the back of his elbow. Loki screams as the joint dislocates with a sickening crack. Asset ducks under his ruined arm and drives her elbow into his stomach. They crash into the curved wall and Asset pushes Loki up the glass, hand wrapped around his throat. His heels kick and slide on the glass as he squirms and wriggles in Asset’s hold, clawing at her face with his good hand, but she grabs it and twists his wrist cruelly.

I scream in rage and desperation, throwing myself against the barrier, oblivious to the pain, desperately trying to break through, trying to reach out and stop her. How could this happen?! How could she beat him?! His eyes are bulging and his face is a horrible shade, pink froth leaking from his mouth. Asset simply watches as Loki struggles in her grasp. He chokes out a barely audible “Please…” before his body goes limp.

Asset waits a moment longer. Loki hangs in her grasp, twitching slightly. I’ve never looked directly into the eyes of her victim and watched the kaleidoscope of emotion that preludes death. Shock, horror, desperation, anger, fear, acceptance… relief… then, nothing…

Asset withdraws her hand, and Loki slides down the glass and topples over, his head thumping on the floor. She looks down at the sprawled body of the god at her feet. A trickle of blood runs from the corner of his mouth, across his cheek.

**Target terminated.**

I let this happen… I watched and did nothing to stop it. Loki is dead, because of me. Oh, God. What have I done?! I scream, my bottomless grief and sorrow echoing through the ether. When the sound stops, the silence crushes me, but there is nothing left. I have nothing now. My only hope, my link to the world of the living is gone. Darkness rises around me, beaconing me into its comforting oblivion. I fall down, down into the inky black that roils like currents above the seafloor, cold, dark and unstoppable. I am consumed by it, wanting only to be torn apart so I no longer have to feel this pain. The heaviness, the turbidity; guilt and heartbreak, regret and despair. It reaches out to me, seeking entry, and I let it pour into my mouth, its bleak coldness washing through me, wishing only to stop feeling. There is a familiar feeling, like an old friend. Recognition blooms in my heart, but I can't name it. A feeling of resignation and relief brushes past me, a shape in the dark. I turn, trying to through the shadows but the current drags me down into the sea bed, the wet sand pours into me; I am crushed by it, filled with its grainy weight. The world flips over and suddenly I am blinded with light and colour –

I look down at Loki, sprawled at my feet. The trickle of blood seeps into his hair. The display in my vision flashes the words ‘target terminated’, then goes blank. I kneel down stiffly, unused to the feeling of a physical body tied so intimating to my intention. Tears blur my vision and course down my cheeks for the first time in years.

“I’m sorry…” I whisper. The display in my vision flickers and then a notification appears:

**New User detected.**

**Welcome, User.**

**Say “Enter command” to activate vocal interface.**

“I’m so sorry...”

His body seems smaller in death. I wonder what it’s like to die… All those lives ended: the test subjects, the soldiers, the children, and finally this Asgardian prince. His long, glorious life, filled with tragedy and miracles, magic and adventure, ended here, at the hands of a scientific abomination. He deserved so much better.

The horrible, choked blush is gone now. If I didn’t know better, I might have thought he was asleep; I guess, in a way, he is. I move his head into a more natural position, brushing clinging strands of hair off his forehead, closing his eyes and wiping away the blood. As my fingers trace the lines of his face, I recalled how I used to think, what would I give to be able to touch him, feel his hand in mine, run my fingers through his hair. Well, turns out the price for that privilege is his life. I laugh at the cruel irony, but it becomes a sob. I take his hand and press it to my face, inhaling the telltale scent of pine and blood.

“I am the monster they made me…” I whisper, my lips brushing the back of his hand, “And you’re dead because of me. So many are dead… How can I ever fix this? How can I make it right?”

How can I live with so much guilt? The weight of it presses on my heart. Maybe the best thing to do is just end it. After all, the experiment worked. I’m back in control – that was the point of all this. I thought it would be a relief, a chance to turn things around and do some good in the world, but what I didn’t count on was being reintegrated with not only the body, but it’s feelings and memories as well. Years and years of her memories, lined up next to my own; twice the torment, twice the guilt. How can I face that without Loki by my side? A dark, twisted thing rises in the back of my mind, whispering _end it, you'd be doing the world a service, just fucking die already,_ but no, I have to keep going, if only in honour of his memory. But not like this... Not as a machine, a scientific plaything, somebody's puppet. As me.

I sit up straighter, “Enter command…”

**Voice command detected…**

“Terminal shut-down.”

**Terminal shut-down is un-reversible. All integrated electronic systems will be disabled. This may jeopardise life functions. Do you wish to continue?**

”Yes,” I whisper. My voice wavers as more tears fall.

**Command accepted, processing…**

I press Loki’s hand to my chest, “Thank you for everything you’ve given me. Your time, your understanding, your humour, your friendship... But I failed your trust. I wasn’t strong enough to stop. I’m sorry.” I kiss his forehead, “Goodbye, Trickster.”

**Activate protocol: Terminal shut-down.**

**Collecting data for crash dump...**

**Caching log file...**

**Memory dump complete.**

**Encrypting disk...**

**Disk encryption complete.**

**Disabling internal devices...**

**60 seconds remaining.**

I drop his hand as my body starts quaking, shivering and twitching. I fall to the floor, writhing as my muscles spasm and my spine arches beyond normal limits, hands balling into fists so tight the fingernails bite into the skin of my palms. My brain feels like it’s being squeezed. I scream. Everything is pulling tight, too tight like I’m ripping myself apart from the inside! My eyes screw shut as I thrash violently and excruciatingly hot pain sweeps under my skin.

**30 seconds remaining.**

My heart is beating too fast like it’s trying to get out of our chest; I scream again, trying desperately to rid myself of the agony. It feels like I’m being burned from the inside out. Tears spill down my temples as I convulse one last time and then go limp, my heart thumping painfully, beating so hard it’s clearly audible and my ribs quake with each contraction.

**20 seconds remaining.**

I remember that night in the storm, the look of joyful amazement on Loki’s face; his delighted laugh when we first established the kinaesthetic link; my pride at him learning to accept some of his shortcomings and his determination to better himself; that time we pranked Nat, Tony and Clint, accomplices in mischief.

**Format complete.**

**10 seconds remaining.**

That day in the hangar, when he reached out and changed my life...

**5...**

**4...**

**3...**

**2...**

**1...**

My heart stops. The world explodes.

Floating… Peaceful, weightless, quiet. It’s different to before; the colours are all weird, washed out some places but overly intense in others, making everything eerie and dreamlike. There is a bright light above me. I squint, trying to see what’s up there.

“Ghost?”

I turn away from the light, looking down at the scene below me. There are two figures, one hunched over the other one that is sprawled across the floor. Loki, cradling Asset’s body in his arms. I stare, not comprehending. Loki is dead, his soul would have moved on by now – how is this possible?

His hand is moving toward Asset, but it’s moving slowly like time has almost stopped. I move closer, observing the hand as it traverses the endless space between it and its target. The fingers glow with warm green light, leaving sparkles and fizzing trails in the air. A look of intense concentration has put a crease between its owner's brows, his eyes flashing with the same green fire. In this strange world, I can see through the translucent form of his physical body. It’s a bit like the aura’s I’m used to seeing, but more real, absolutely beautiful, mesmerizing; I watch as the glowing heart swells and contracts rhythmically, just like it’s flesh-bound counterpart, pulsing life-force and magic throughout his ethereal form. There is a surge of power flowing from the centre, through his chest to his arm, drawing closer to his hand is it, in turn, draws closer to the chest of the woman whose head is cradled in his lap.

She is also translucent, but her pale body is riddled with fine lines so black they play tricks on the eyes. There are places within her that are opaque, where the glow of life is completely gone. Her eyes are dull, staring blankly, blown wide in death. Her heart’s warm yellow glow is fading slowly, retracting tendrils from her form, shrinking in on itself.

As I watch, it’s movement stops altogether, like the world is holding its breath. Something strange is happening to Loki. He shifts and ripples, and suddenly there are two superimposed images. One rises, taking the transparent, glowing nature with it, leaving the other form solid and physical, still hunched over Asset.

_Loki?_

“Ghost...” He gives me a small smile, eyes kind but sad.

_How… how is this possible?_

He gives his signature cocky grin, “It was an illusion.”

I stare at him, dumbfounded.

“Like you once said, artists create lies to tell the truth. I created a lie, and you believed it, and in doing so, found something true about yourself.”

 _What_ _?!_

He holds out his hands, palms up. “You were afraid. I watched you fight for days, always so close and yet so far. Strange was all for stepping in and helping, but I knew you had to do it by yourself. You were strong enough, you just needed the right push.”

I move away, shaking my head, _I thought I killed you…_

“And you dreaded the prospect of that more than anything, did you not? You were terrified to accept that Asset was part of you, that you different sides of the same person.” He steps closer and takes my hands in his. “Believe me, I know there is nothing more terrifying than watching yourself become a monster. But when you accept that, in your heart, you can then claim ownership of that creature and begin to tame it. No one else can do that, only you.”

 _But…_ _Aren’t I dead?_

“The electrical system linked to your heart shorted, causing you to go into cardiac arrest. Not the same as dying. But, right now, you do have a decision to make: stay, or move on.”

_I can’t leave yet. There are things I must do._

His expression softens, pride laced with tenderness and relief. He moves to where his body and Asset are still frozen, crouching down to realign with his body and becomes a single form again. Time speeds up and the burst of energy flows down his arm and into his hand, which is drawing nearer to her chest. I lay my hand over his and feel his magic and strength flowing through him into Asset. Blue-white light explodes through her at the contact, billowy and roiling within her form like smoke in a bottle. She convulses, back arching off the floor.

A surge of electric attraction between me and her, magnetic in its irresistibility, sucks me in. I lose all sense of self as spiralling, kaleidoscopic images swirl and a blinding light races towards me –

Reality hits me like a ton of bricks. A buzzing tingle fills my body, my muscles twitch; this is nothing like before; it’s too much! I twist out of Loki’s arms, scrambling away on all fours. Tears stream down my face as I double over, retching, my body rebelling against the stress. I topple over and just lay there, shaking, eyes shut against harsh reality.

A light pressure on my shoulder makes me flinch.

“Look at me…”

I turn my face against the hard floor, ashamed. I don’t deserve his kindness; I am a monster.

“Ghost?” He squeezes my shoulder reassuringly.

I look up at him through my tears. The moment I see his face, something snaps inside me. Something dark and evil rears up. Instinctual rage, terror and hatred course through me, shocking in their intensity and desperate power. Before I realise what is happening, I’m on top of Loki, my hands around his throat. He grabs my wrists reflexively but doesn’t try to fight me off. His face fills my vision, his entire focus on me, green eyes burning with such cold fire I am paralysed by his gaze. It’s enough to break the hold of the shadow in me and I scream and throw myself away from him, crashing into the wall, scrambling away, putting as much distance between us as possible in the cramped cell. My breathing is shallow and erratic, I whimper and gasp, clutching at my head as adrenaline rushes through me. The darkness reaches out, telling me to end him, that he is a threat, that I will die. The conflict of it is too much. I scream so loud it burns my throat. The walls are closing in. The blackness is creeping up on me like a predator, I can’t stop it! Oh, gods, no, please let me out! Please –


	8. Waiting for the Miracle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Round and round and round it goes, and where it stops, nobody knows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Journey on the Sunset - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6S1ODrVF5Do

__

_One month_ _after reintegration_ _…_

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My life has settled into some semblance of a routine. I keep myself pretty much isolated. I am civil when cornered, but human interaction makes my skin crawl, so I steer clear of people whenever possible. My disfigurement still draws stares occasionally, and I am terribly self-conscious of my rugged appearance. I mask my insecurity with aloofness and cold indifference.

Every day I run around the perimeter of the Avengers compound grounds before sunrise, then spar with Clint or Bucky for an hour before breakfast. I like them, they don’t talk much and are good fighters. Having both been mind-controlled themselves, they understand that I just want to fight, not talk. When they go off to breakfast, I go to the library. I don’t eat much. My genetics have stopped mutating, leaving me, according to Dr Strange, the most energy-efficient human he’s ever seen. Long story short, I eat about three times a week, but I do need daily supplements to counteract the effects of not being in the tank’s fluid every night.

Stephen’s taken me under his wing. As both a doctor and master of the mystic arts, he finds my condition fascinating. He doesn’t quite understand how I was able to live as a ghost for so long. Since my ability to experience other dimensions of reality has vanished since my reintegration, he’s teaching me all the basics he thinks I should know, portalling me to the sanctum every day for lessons. I really enjoy my time there. The atmosphere is quiet and calming, and Wong treats me no differently to anyone else, but I go back to my apartment in the compound every night.

In the evenings I practise his teachings, trying to stabilise my roiling emotions and understand and deactivate Asset’s old programming. It’s hard work. So many years of negative conditions, fight or flight, adrenaline, death and murder. Her memories are still locked away, but the feeling of her is unavoidable. I often wake in the middle of the night, a scream stuck in my throat, covered in sweat. A run through the bushland or a swim in the river is the best way to ease my rattled nerves.

The subdermal armour is slowly driving me crazy; I can’t lie down comfortably, it digs in and rubs with certain movements. Like the wires and gadgetry, I can’t wait to have it out, but Stephen wants me to delay a while longer, to make sure my body is stabilised enough to withstand the invasive surgery necessary to remove the components.

In the meantime, I study and meditate. Aspects of physical existence are still overwhelming, but as I become more familiar and comfortable with life, so it becomes more bearable. I really miss the metaphysical aspect of my old life; another reason I can’t wait to get the implants out.

My circle of friends is limited to Stephen, who has become my mentor and friend. I think he had a chat with everyone early on about my needs because no one has tried to find me or ask why I’m being such an anti-social bitch. I’m grateful because in unexpected situations Asset’s programming rears it’s ugly head all too quickly, but I regret the pain I’m causing, especially to Loki. When I first saw him after waking up to in the hospital ward, I experienced the same rush of primal hatred. I screamed at him to get out, to not come near me. His devastated expression broke my heart, and then his mask of indifference fell into place, and that made me feel even worse, but the conflict of my affection and Asset’s rage was tearing me apart, and she was winning. That’s the power she has, what I’m learning to understand and control. There are no words from her, only feelings and intentions. I’m used to intention from my time as a ghost, but now I’m in a body, they have a whole new level of power. I wrote a letter to Loki the next day, explaining to the best of my ability what had happened and why, begging his forgiveness and patience, and slipped it under his door. Two days later, I found Piccadilly roses in a vase on my kitchen table. No explanation, just two flowers the colour of my eyes. I cried myself to sleep that night, gazing at the symbols of rebirth in the colours of friendship and love, illuminated by the moonlight streaming in my bedroom window.


	9. Truth or Consequences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You wouldn't believe me, even if I told you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My Blood - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=31cHk_TL7kw

__

_Two months after reintegration…_

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Thank you all for coming,” Stephen glances around the little group gathered in his study. I stand tall at his side, but my gaze is fixed on a spot on the floor. I’m on edge, being in such close proximity with the five men.

He lays a fatherly hand on my shoulder, “As you know, I’ve been working with Ghost for some time now. Her body and mind have stabilised to the point where I certain she will not only survive the removal of the implants but flourish in their absence. However, the surgery will be long and intense. Which is where I need your help.” He turns to Tony Stark, “I will need access to the most advanced hospital equipment you have.”

“Shouldn’t be a problem,” Tony nods absently, eyeing me.

“Vision, will you be able to assist me during the operation?”

My eyes flick up to meet Vision’s cybernetic gaze. He smiles kindly and speaks to me directly, “I would be glad to assist the good doctor in any way necessary to improve your well-being.”

I give him a brief smile and a small nod in thanks.

Stephen claps his hands together, “Great. Given the closely entwined nature of the e-Nerv, some of the parts that are linked with her central nervous system might need to be disintegrated for complete removal. You can do that, right?”

Vision nods once and opens his mouth to elaborate but Tony cuts him off, “Wait, what? What do you mean, disintegrated?”

Stephen raises his eyebrows at Tony, “Fragmented, shattered, turned to dust.”

“Yeah ha, ha. Don’t give me cheek, wizard.” Tony waves his hand at me, “You can’t destroy that. Think of the advances we could make from studying it. You’re just going to vanish it away?”

Stephen’s face turns stony. He speaks slowly and carefully, “Yes, Stark, I’m going to destroy it. It’s alien technology. Just as Loki said,” he glances at the man in question, who is standing by the door, as far from me as possible in the small room, “it’s not meant for humans, and it does not belong here.”

Tony holds his hands up, “Sure, I get it. Take it out of her, but don’t destroy it. The opportunities – ” He throws up his hands and turns away.

Bruce polishes his glasses in that distracted way of his. “It’s not about the tech, Tony, it’s her life. She deserves her life back.”

Stark spins around, “She has her life back! Look, I’m not saying that what was done to her was right, of course not. It was horrible.” He turns back to the window, “I’m just saying, maybe it’s better to learn from her what we can. How do we know she’s the only one with this tech inside? Maybe we could use it – “

I’ve had enough. I duck around Strange, walk up to where Stark is staring out of the window and spin him around by the shoulders.He does a double-take, shocked at my proximity, but speak softly, in my most eloquent voice, “I understand your concern. I share it. I understand that you wish to capitalise on the opportunity I present. But please, do me the courtesy of listening to my side. I'm going to explain it in a way you will hopefully understand. Will you hear me out?”

He looks taken aback, but nods.

“I want you to imagine something,” I start to pace back and forth. “The Ironman suit is a part of you, right? You rely on it, it’s an integral part of you? You couldn’t imagine your life without it?”

“Yeah, so?”

“Imagine that one day you step into your iron suit, and something happens. You have no control, it’s is following someone else’s programming, someone else’s agenda. You’re still in there; you see and hear, you feel everything, but all that matters is the suit’s programming.

“But no one can hear you or see you. No one knows your still alive in there. The more you try to take back control, the more it hurts. There is something that pushes you back. It stuns you, burns you alive, rips your very essence apart. But even when you give up, wishing for nothing but death, somehow you just keep existing. For years, you live as a ghost in your own life.”

There is dead silence in the room. I glance around at the faces; Stephen looks proud, but Vision, Bruce and Loki are hanging on every word. None of them has heard me talk more than a few sentences at a time, and never about my experience. I turn my attention back to Tony.

“During this time you witness your suit – your body, if you will – commit heinous acts of violence. You watch it kill without hesitation, torture without mercy. You hear your victims screams, hear them beg for their lives and the lives of their loved one, but there’s nothing you can do. You’re just bystander, and your body is a puppet on a string. You try and try _b_ _ut you_ _can’t do a fucking thing!_ ”

My voice cracks as my composure slips. I turn away from Starks shocked expression, closing my eyes against the images that flash just under the surface of conscious recognition. I swallow hard and continue shakily, “Now imagine you somehow gain back control. You’re free. You regain your autonomy. Everything’s fine. You’re not prosecuted for your past crimes – quite the contrary, you are forgiven and accepted back into the world with open arms, because after all, you were not in control. It was someone else’s doing.

“But the things no one understands,” my voice drops to a whisper; the other men actually lean forward, “Are the memories. You can’t consciously remember anything, it’s all blocked, but it's waiting like the sword of Damocles. Years and years of memories, captured from behind your eyes, _every single thing_ _you’_ _ve_ _done_ , every life you’ve taken, every blow struck and shot fired, it’s all there. And that’s not even the worst part,” I laugh humourlessly, “No, the worst part is the _programming_ , the indoctrination to lie, sneak and strategise, to treat every person as a possible hostile, to be always on the alert. I can’t even look at those I love without analysing them as a threat. There is a shadow that stands behind me, looking out at the world through my eyes, and if I'm not vigilant, it might just reach through me and wrap its hand around someone's neck.” I turn to Loki, "You saw it first hand, in the holding cell." He nods slowly, eyes never leaving my face. "That was the first and only time it's gotten out, but I live in fear that one day I won't be strong enough."

I turn back to Stark, arms out, palms up, “So tell me, in all honesty, if it were you, could you _ever_ trust that suit again? Could you ever feel truly _safe_ , knowing of what it is capable? Sure, maybe you work hard at rehabilitation and can manage the PTSD, but what about the _n_ _ightmares_?” My voice cracks again, angry tears coursing down my cheeks, “Reliving random moments of your puppet life every night, watching yourself _kill_ and _main_ and _torture_ , watching yourself being _mutilated_ _and_ _experimented_ upon?! What happens when you dream about _killing all those you love_?!“

My voice shakes from the strain of speaking through my tears, “That’s my reality, Tony! _Every night_ I relive what was done to me, what I did. Sometimes, I dream that I have _killed_ _e_ _very_ _–_ _l_ _ast_ _–_ _o_ _ne_ _–_ _of y_ _ou_ _!”_ I whirl around, taking in the shocked faces around me as I jab my finger at each of them to emphasise my words. I stop at Loki, dropping my hands into a pleading gesture and whisper, “You were the best part of my ghost life. Now I cannot stand to be near you, and every night I watch you die!”

I turn back to Stark, “ _Please_ , Tony. Do you understand why I want this stuff gone? It’s like a cancer. I can’t stand it any longer. I want to be myself again. I lost all the abilities I gained as a ghost because of the conflict between my body and my mind. Even with the system shut down, I still feel it, a constant reminder of what they made me, what Asset became.

“You can have whatever is left of the tech, I’m sure Strange can be careful getting it out; study it, play with it, destroy it, do whatever _the fuck_ you want with it. I just want it _out of me!_ ” My hand claws at my chest as I stare into his eyes until he looks away.

He clears his throat, “Okay.”

I clasp my hands together and bow my head to him, “Thank you!”

“Yeah, yeah,” he says gruffly, and I can tell he’s trying not to show how much my speech affected him. I turn toward the door, head held high, not looking at anyone, especially Loki. The door clicks shut behind me. I lean my back against it.

Stephen’s voice, “You see what I’m talking about.”

Bruce, “I had no idea… I thought I had it bad with the other guy, but this, I mean, my God, how is she still _sane?_ ”

Tony gives a derisive snort. I prick my ears up at Vision’s mellow cadence, “Will it be easier for her when the spirit-killer is removed?”

Stephen again, “I don’t know for certain. The implants, even though they are disabled, carry a residual charge and interfere with the energy body, the soul, if you will. Normally, with practise and training, people are able to separate the ethereal form from their physical one. The spirit-killer prevents Ghost from doing this, it’s like a cage for her. She’s gone from complete freedom to complete entrapment. I think it would have been _much_ easier for her if she had been able to return to her previous disembodied state at will, at least at night, but she’s locked in her body 24/7. It’s a living hell. I think that’s why her memories are blocked. It’s just too much to handle. However, with the implants gone, it's much more likely she will make a full recovery.”

Tony, “Okay, I’ll make some calls, get the ball rolling.”

There are footsteps and the door into the other corridor opens, “Loki. A word?”

More footsteps and the door shuts.

I slip silently along the perpendicular corridor, till I can hear their hushed conversation.

Loki’s voice, laced with sarcasm, “’Much more likely’?”

Stephen sounds pensive, “We just don’t know. She certainly has exhibited remarkable resilience and tenacity, but everybody has a breaking point. You knew her the best. Do you think she’s strong enough?”

“I don’t know.” Loki’s tone is desolate, and tears prick behind my eyes, “The woman I knew is gone. She used to be happy, inquisitive, unafraid and cheerful. Now there is a haunted look in her eyes, like every corner might conceal a threat. And though she stands tall, there is a tension in her body, like she’s poised to run.”

Stephen sighs, “She’s in pain, Loki. She tries to hide it, but she’s in constant, intolerable pain, both physical and emotional. I do the best I can to make it easier for her, but to be honest, I’m surprised she’s lasted this long.”

“What?! Why?” Loki sounds incredulous.

“Many reasons. All I can say is that she is doing better than I ever dared hope and that when the implants are gone, I think she will be able to return to, if not normality, then at least something resembling it.”

“I hope so.”

Stephen pauses, then, “You really care about her, don’t you?”

Footsteps that were pacing back and forth falter. Loki’s voice is husky, “What of it?”

“She really misses you, you know.”

Loki gives a derisive snort, “I doubt that.”

“I don’t.”

The door opens and the two men rejoin the others. I pad away, not wanting to hear any more. I stop at the end of the corridor, lean back against the wall and close my eyes, trying to get my breathing under control.

“Nice speech,” a voice murmurs from my left. I jump, but it’s only Wong, busily dusting the ornaments on a cabinet.

“Thanks,” I take a deep breath and hold it, then blow it out slowly. “Hey, why are you cleaning?”

Wong flips the duster over an immaculate cabinet top, “A clean home, a clean mind.”

“Uh-huh,” I narrow my eyes at him, “Yes, I see the area around Stephen’s study door is spotless.”

Wong smiles at me in a terrible attempt at looking innocent.

I push off from the wall and walk back along the corridor, passing the door in question, from which the sound of heated conversation is clearly audible. ‘Clean house’ my ass. When I reach the balcony, I swing myself over the railing and drop to the foyer, continuing onward without pause.

“Hey!” Wong yells after me, “You’re going to kill some doing that one day!”

“Not likely,” I slip through the kitchen door.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I’m sitting at the kitchen table, nursing a lukewarm cup of tea and staring into space when Stephen walks in some time later. He slumps into the chair next to me and heaves a sigh.

I get up to make him a tea, “How’d it go?”

“Good. The procedure is scheduled for early next week. Which is amazingly short notice, considering.”

“Considering what?”

He gives a dry chuckle, “The people we’re dealing with. Stark is so focused on the idea that this technology could give him the upper hand if it comes to another alien attack. It’s rather difficult to get him to appreciate the other side of it. Your side of it.”

I hand him the tea, “Did my little spiel help?”

“Most definitely. I’m proud of you for standing up for yourself like that. And it was important for the others to hear it from you. They are more open-minded.”

I frown, sitting back down and putting my feet up on the opposite chair. “I think Stark is open-minded, it’s just he’s been through a lot, and therefore has different priorities. He suffers PTSD from the attack on New York, and the whole debacle with Ultron has him jittery about his own creations, let alone aliens. I remember when I was a ghost I saw him have a panic attack. It wasn’t good, energy all over the place. He’s hurt, too, and afraid, though he’d never admit it. He’s terribly aware of his fragile mortality. Especially being surrounded by freaks like the Banner, or Thor, or even you.”

Stephen gives me a look.

“Oh, come on!” I scoff, “Don’t tell you haven’t seen it? His nicknames for people? Part of his eccentricity, sure, but also a means of elevating himself over people by whom he feels threatened. I’m human, as far as he’s concerned, or at least I was. Mostly am. Whatever. He can relate to that. Much as I want this stuff out, I do understand why he wants to study me.”

Stephen puts his mug down a little harder than necessary, slopping the tea. “You are a human being, not ‘something to be studied’. You are an amazing individual, with a mind and feelings and a life. Your freedom and peace of mind are more important than theoretical preparation for a hypothetical future.”

I smile at him shyly, “Thanks.”

“I mean it. After everything you’ve been through, I’m amazed that you are so… grounded.”

“Me too,” I stare into my tea, lost in thought, “You know, it sounds terrible to say this but deep down, I’m grateful for everything that’s happened. I don’t think it’s right, not at all, but if Asset hadn’t been made, I wouldn’t have become a ghost. I wouldn’t be here now, with the experience that I have.

“I wish it could have been different, I wish I hadn’t done all the horrible things I did as Asset, but I can’t change the past. Can only learn from it. And I think the best way to do that is to accept what I was, how it shaped who I am today, and use that to become better tomorrow.” I glance up at Stephen, “What?”

He’s watching me with paternal pride. “I haven’t seen anyone accomplish in two years what you’ve accomplished in two months. I’m really proud of you, you know that?” He drains his cup and rises, “Oh and by the way, Wong has asked me to tell you that if you jump over the bannisters again, ‘the consequences will be dire’. His words, not mine.”

I nod absently. Just as Stephen reaches the door, I get up, “Hey?”

He turns, “Hmm?”

By the time I’m half-way across the room, I’m shaking so badly I have to stop and lean on the back of a chair. I flash him an embarrassed smile, “Sorry, this is harder than I thought it would be.” Take a deep breath, “One, two, three…” Force myself to push past the fear and desperate desire to get away, shuffling towards were he stands, patiently waiting. At last I reach him and put my arms around him hesitantly. He wraps me in a friendly hug, patting my back.

“Thank you for the opportunity, and for believing in me.”

“You’re most welcome.”

Emotion overwhelms me and a dry sob shakes my shoulders. His embrace becomes comforting, swaying me side to side. “This really is difficult for you, isn’t it?”

“On so many levels,” I rest my head against his shoulder. “I’m scared.”

“I know. It’s okay. Everybody fears the unknown, but when you turn that fear into curiosity, then truly amazing things can happen.”

I laugh through my tears, “Trust you to say something like that.”

He laughs softly. I pull back, wiping my nose on my sleeve. “Thank you, Stephen. Really. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

He pulls a face, “Yeah, you could. Would have been much harder, and taken longer…” I huff and his grins, then becomes solemn again, taking me by the shoulders. “Seriously though, give yourself some credit. I merely provided the tools, you’re doing all the hard work. Now, we’ve got four days till the procedure. I need you to take some extra vitamins and follow a modified exercise routine in preparation, okay?”

I nod.

“That’s my girl. I’ll portal over some things when I have it all sorted.” He glances at his watch, “It’s getting late, you want to go home?”

“Yeah, I suppose.”

Stephen steps back and sling-rings open a portal into my apartment. “See you tomorrow.”

I smile and step through, turning to watch the portal shrink and vanish behind me. The familiar feel of my apartment settles my jittery nerves. The window is open, letting in the afternoon light and the sound of distant birds. I collapse onto the sofa and close my eyes, letting the days events replay, the excitement tingling through me. The implants are finally coming out! I shift, trying to find the perfect position in which none of the plates rub together or press into my muscles. Gods damn, I’m looking forward to sleeping in a bed. The evening chorus of bird calls usher me into sleep.


	10. Welcome Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I missed you so much...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In Your Arms - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9_sR4epKtNA

_The surgery goes smoothly. With the technology and armour gone, and with them the immediate association of Asset, Ghost’s metaphysical abilities immediately resurface. She is up and about without a few days since she heals much faster than normal humans. She still spends a lot of time with Dr Strange, learning what she can from him, trying to understand her unique brand of magic that has manifested. It's a hybrid mix of seidr and mystic arts. She spends more time with the team and starts helping them with some of their missions. Memories are still repressed, but she does her best to get on with life, relearning what it’s like to be human. She takes Aquilla as her moniker, saying that it feels wrong being known as either Ghost or Asset, and that the reference to aquila, meaning eagle, is a reminder.  
_

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I sit by the window, watching the sun rise slowly through the morning mist. I couldn’t sleep very well last night, tossing and turning, worrying and fretting. Eventually, I gave up, dragged my blanket to the armchair by the window and watched the stars wheel across the sky until it turned from indigo to purple, pink to gold, white to blue.

The sun’s rays now warm my skin. I get up stiffly and go into the bathroom. After a shower, I rub healing ointment into the delicate scars that now adorn my body; the back of my neck, across the shoulders, down my spine, along the inside of arms and legs, across my stomach and lower belly. They’re fading now, and I accept them as part of me, much preferable to the wires and components they were created to remove.

The morning routine complete, I slip on a pair of loose trousers and shirt and check myself over one last time in the mirror. Anticipation flushes my cheeks. Loki is back today, after a month in New Asgard. Since he arrived late last night, I was hyper-aware of his presence nearby. It’s like a beacon in my mind, pointing me toward him.

I slip on my shoes, walk briskly to the elevator. Tap my foot throughout the seemingly endless ride to the foyer. Smile at the security guard. Walk out the front door. My heart is pounding, my palms sweaty. How will I react to him? As Asset? As Ghost? Will he see the changes in me? Will he care? Does he even want to know me any more?

I bee-line to where I know he is, following the feeling in my gut. My stomach turns over as I take in the sight of him under the same tree where we met so long ago. He’s sitting cross-legged, head bowed, hands folded in his lap. The top button of his shirt is open and he’s wearing classy black jeans. The gentle breeze moves his hair. I walk cautiously closer. There is a twitch of trepidation in the back of my mind, but nothing like what it used to be. No fear, no hatred, no uncontainable need to get away. Just the wonderful warm feeling of being reunited with an old friend. I put my hand over my mouth as a dry sob catches in my throat.

Loki looks up at the sound and meets my gaze, a slow smile spreading across his handsome face. He rises gracefully, but stays under the tree, waiting for me to close the distance. I stop a few feet away, uncertainty clawing in my chest. Will he accept me? Can he forgive me? His brows quirk upward and holds out a hand. I step toward him gingerly and put my hand into his. The simple action feels so important. He looks down at my slim fingers in his palm, his gaze flicking up to my face.

I take a deep breath, “I’m sorry I’ve been so cold towards you. I’m sorry that I pushed you away without explanation or consideration – “ My voice cracks, “I know I hurt you; I don’t know exactly how, or why, but I did, and I’m sorry for that. Can you forgive me?”

Loki’s eyes are glistening in the morning light as he watches me, one side of his mouth twitches up. “Aquilla…” He sound of my new name on his lips sends a shiver down my spine. “That’s your name now, yes?”

I nod.

“Aquilla, there is nothing to forgive.” His voice is so soft, so full of understanding. I bite my bottom lip to stop it trembling, “But Loki, I – “

He silences me with a raised finger, “All right. If that’s what you need to hear, I will say it: I forgive you.”

Tears fall, leaving cool tracks on my cheeks, “Thank you.”

“I do not hold anything you did against you.” His seriousness lightens with a rye grin, “I did miss you, though.”

I hiccough a laugh and throw myself forward, “I missed you, too!”

He folds me into his embrace and buries his face in the crook of my neck. I can’t get close enough, wrapping my arms around him tightly, fingers pressing into his back. All the worry, the stress, guilt and shame I had harboured for the possible outcomes of this moment run down my cheeks, staining the fine cotton of his shirt.

“I missed you so much,” he whispers.

“I’m sorry,” I mumble into his shirt.

He hushes me, gently rubbing my back.


	11. Parlour Tricks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I can't see you, but I know you're there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drumming Song - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=boo2Zm69fhY

__

_Aquilla still keeps her distance from everyone, including Loki, as the confusion of physical life still overwhelms her easily._

_A few months after the surgery..._

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The paths I have worn through the bushland have become second nature to me by now. I walk slowly, hands shoved deep in my pockets against the chill in the early evening air. At the river I stop and sit on a log, staring out over the water. A familiar presence drifts closer to me. It’s been following me for a few minutes, always staying well back, but now it drifts closer. I concentrate, throwing my attention outward, delineating the space taken up by the person wreathed so thoroughly in illusion as to be practically undetectable. But not to me. I continue along the path, and the presence follows, two paces behind and to my right. I stop dead, and it stops too. I turn slowly, scanning the air for the minutest indication that something might be amiss, but nothing gives him away.

“Damn, you’re good.” I smile at the empty air. The presence moves slightly, and I imagine him cocking his head and raising one eyebrow in disbelief.

“So are you going to come out?”

Nothing. I sigh, “Fine,” and raise my hand, stepping gingerly closer to the feeling of life. A buzzing tingle starts in my fingertips, my hand feels hot and cold at the same time, then my fingers brush rough cotton and warm skin. The illusion melts away from my touch, revealing a very disgruntled Loki.

I grin at his obvious chagrin, ”Hello there, Trickster.”

“How did you do that?” He falls into step beside me as I continue along the path.

“Do I really need to spell it out for you?” I giggle, “Loki, you of all people must be able to work out why I can see through your illusions.”

“Just tell me.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” I scoff, “No, _you_ have to work to out. I’m very interested to know how and why you get to the answer, and what theories you invent in the interim.”

He snorts, “So, you do _actually_ _know_ why my magic doesn’t work on you. And you won’t tell me.”

“Correct. Though to clarify, your magic _does_ work on me.”

“But you can see through my illusions.”

“Yes and no.”

He rolls his eyes, “Well, that’s helpful.”

I twitch my head in mock deference, “Glad to hear it.”

We walk in silence for a while. The sunset tinges the clouds a rich pink. The subdued roar of the quinjet’s engines disturbs the peace for a few minutes, then shuts off.

“Nat’s happy to be home,” I murmur quietly.

Loki, sauntering along with hands clasped behind his back, gives me a searching look, “Why do you say that?”

“Because she is,” I shrug, “She broadcasting it like a searchlight. And Clint is happy to see her. They’re on the tarmac, swapping stories and laughing,” I smile at something only I can see.

Loki’s full attention is on me now, "Can you see them? Or is it just in her head?”

“I just know,” I shrug again and look up into his intense green eyes, “I was practising earlier, what you told me about mind-reading and the like. It works differently for me, it’s like I’m a part of the person, seeing through their eyes, hearing through their ears, understanding the world through their preconceptions, beliefs and experiences. And at the same time, I’m me, watching their life, with _my_ preconceptions, etc.” I frown, “It’s kinda weird, now I say it aloud, and if I think too much, the whole system implodes and I get a massive headache. But mostly, it works well. Easier with no distractions around, hence I’m out here.”

“What about the barriers? Protection from mind-reading?”

I give him a pensive look, “Well, I can’t exactly test my progress on myself, can I? So read me.”

Loki’s brow furrows and he leans closer, concentration obvious in his face. I am aware of a probing, but nothing uncomfortable or threatening. His eyes widen in amazement, “It’s like trying to get through a brick wall. Quilla, that’s the best mental defence I’ve ever seen.”

I grin happily, “Thanks!”

“What else have you been working on?”

“This…” I snap my fingers and balance a ball of light sparks into life on the tips of my thumb and index finger. It’s mainly a warm yellow, but streaks of red zip around it, and sparks of pure white light spin and dance across the surface in swirling agitation. I open my fingers and the ball grows larger until I have to hold it with two hands. Loki backs away, mouth agape, staring in fascination. He reaches out a hand tentatively and touches the surface. A fizzle of activity flows outward from the contact, emerald traces of light race around the equator before dissipating into the yellow-crimson spectrum. I watch him through the transparent lattice of light, smiling slightly at his awe. I raise my hands to opposite sides of the globe and bring them together, pressing it into a smaller and smaller size, the light increasing and the mass decreases until it almost blinding and the size of a grape. I hold the tiny star between thumb and forefinger again, squinting against the light. Loki holds out his palm and I drop my creation through it, catching it in my other hand below his. He snatches his hand back like he’d been burned, eyes wide.

“That stung!”

I laugh softly, “Hold out your hand again.”

He complies cautiously. This time I let the light rest in his palm. He stares at it open-mouthed. When I start to feel the drain of sustaining the globe, I gently lay my hand over his, sandwiching the orb between our palms. The heat of it warms my skin, the light passes through my flesh, backlighting the bones in my hand. I see myself reflected back in Loki’s eyes, illuminated by the glow in our joined hands. A buzzing, tingling, desperately bone-deep itch suddenly forms in my hand, and from the twitch in Loki’s face I know he feels it too. Then with a rush of electric fizz, the globe explodes, the remaining energy washing through us. I pull it into me, returning it to the special place behind my heart from whence it came. Loki looks dazed, blinks rapidly a few times, then sneezes violently. I double over laughing.

“Not funny!” He huffs, scrubbing at his face with his sleeve.

“Yes, it is!” I cackle, “Oh, your face! Priceless!”

“By the Norms, why does it _tickle_ so?!”

“It’s just the energy integrating with your own. Feels weird at first, but the more you do it, the easier it is,” I giggle at his scrunched up face. “It always feels worse in the face. Don’t worry, it’ll be gone soon.”

He humphs in response. “Apart from _that_ aspect, what you did was amazing.”

I duck my head in humility, “Thank. I’m still learning, still finding new things.”

“Well, don’t practise too much or you’ll be better at magic than I.”

“Oh dear, really?” I frown in mock concern, “You mean to say you _don’t_ know everything?”

Loki lunges at me, but I duck away, giggling, slipping into an illusion and disappearing from his sight.

He looks around, desperately trying to find me, but I stay quiet and hidden.

“Oh come on, really? You can see through my illusions, but I can’t see through yours? How is that fair?”

I rematerialise a few feet away, shaking my head at him, “It works both ways, Trickster. You can’t hide from me, I can’t hide from you. The only difference is that I know how it works. When you learn, I won’t be able to hide from you, either. But until then - “ I slip away again, gone from physical sight, “Bye!”

Loki’s frustrated shout echoes after me as I trot away, back along the path to the river.


	12. It's the Quiet Ones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remember that theoretical future? Well, it's here...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Return - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aHwCWyswZIk

__

_Lab 4, Avengers compound…_

_~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~_

Jordan yawned. The computer screen he was staring at flickered and a list of computation scrolled. He peered around the stack of files and intrays on his lab partners desk, but there was no one there. He sighed, stood up stiffly and called out, “Jay, the data’s finished crunching, you want it on your monitor?”

No reply. He tried a different tack, “I’m gonna get a coffee. Want one?”

Still nothing. He groaned and slouched off to the coffee machine, grumbling under his breath. As the water was boiling, his phone beeped. His mother was asking him what time he would be off work. He typed a reply as the coffee percolated. With two steaming mugs in hand, he made his way back to his desk. Still no sign of Jay. That was odd. He shrugged and went back to work, sifting through the data, locating peaks and trends. Half an hour passed, Jay’s coffee grew cold and Jordan grew more uneasy.

The door behind Jordan slammed open, bouncing off the wall and making him jump so violently he bashed his knee on is desk and got a crick in his neck from spinning around. Jay stood in the doorway, head bowed, his scrawny frame dwarfed by the huge storage room door.

“What the fuck, man?!” Jordan snapped, rubbing his neck.

Jay just stood there, face impassive. His head lifted and his eyes focused on Jordan, who was starting to notice something very odd about his friend.

“Dude, you okay?”

Jay took a shaky step closer, opened his mouth to reply, but his eyes rolled up in his head and he collapsed. Jordan lunged toward him and caught Jay’s head before it bounced in the hard floor. Blood trickled from his nose and mouth, his eyes were defocused and his breath was shallow.

“Friday?!” Jordan hollered in desperation, cradling his friend.

“Yes, sir?” The disembodied voice replied.

“Get some help, please, I don’t know what’s wrong with him!”

“Right away, sir.”

Jay reached up a shaking hand and fisted it in Jordan’s coat, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to let it out, I just saw the case was empty and – ” He coughed and blood spattered across Jordan’s face, “I didn’t know – “ His eyes rolled up and he sagged in Jordan’s arms, limp and silent.

“No… No, Jay! Jay? JAY!” Jordan sobbed, shaking his friend but there was no reply. He gently lowered Jay to the floor and stood up, trembling, staggered back to the chair and collapsed into it, still staring at Jay’s body on the floor. A pool of blood framed his friends head.

Something tickled on Jordan’s face. He swatted at it, absently, but the feeling remained. He scrubbed at his cheek with the cuff of his lab coat, then realised that there shouldn’t be anything like a flying insect in the lab.

He stared at the cuff, which was stained with Jay’s blood. Microscopic black flecks were moving over the fabric. They jumped and skittered like flees, but they were so fine he had to squint to make them out. Something tickled the back of his throat, and too late he coughed and made himself sneeze in a panic, trying to get the strange little black things out of his mouth and nose, but they got into his ears. A horrible sensation prickled in his skull as the mites worked their way through his ear canal, along the nerves and into his skull, to his brain. He screamed as they burrowed through the meninges, but then all sensation was gone. Jordan blearily typed a message to his mother, telling her he loved her, before he lost consciousness.


	13. Of Futures and Pasts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just when you think your demons have been defeated, they bite you in the ass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Skin - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1Al-nuR1iAU

Some months ago, Tony came to me one sunny morning with a proposal: would I be willing to try my metaphysical hand at science - specifically, studying and understanding the structure and electrical nature of radioactive substances and atomic structures. I agreed on the spot.

The first facility I visited was in Sweden. At first, it felt like I had found a job that was absolutely made for me. But, even though I had the curiosity and mental dexterity to investigate the minutia of the atomic world, I didn’t have the stamina or control to stay for more a few seconds; that can be a very long time, but even so, the limit was extremely frustrating. I talked (complained) to Dr Strange about it, and he suggested I ask Loki to help. He had the experience and strength, but could not manage the fine detail and patience required for manipulation of the molecular world. So, we compromised; sat facing each other, one hand on the others forehead, we slipped into a hybrid state of meditation, mental projection (for me) and magic (for him). Using a mix of our old telepathic and kinaesthetic links from my ghost days and his magic, Loki gave me strength and stability to venture farther and for longer, and in turn, I gave him access to the ‘live feed’ of the experiences I had and the things I learned. We made a good team, and the researchers gibbered with delight over the information I was able to provide them.

At first, our cooperation was a practical agreement. But months passed and we broadened our playing field, working with researchers and designers in nano-technology, microbiology, quantum experiments and suchlike. We became more and more comfortable with each other, physically and psychologically. Some of the walls I had built around myself began to crumble and the easy friendship we had previously shared started to return. I could have fun again, Loki smiled more. He started playing tricks on me occasionally, light-hearted pranks that always ended with me chasing him, both of us laughing.

One morning during the elevator ride down to the lab, we stood shoulder to shoulder in the cramped space; without my conscious control, my hand slipped into Loki’s larger one. It was instinctive, felt so natural, so comfortable, I didn’t know what to make of it, shocked at my own action. Then he looked at me with a smile in his eyes, gave my hand a gentle squeeze and all my worry vanished. Since then, we have often held hands during elevator rides, walking the long echoing hallways of the various facilities, or watching movies or reading books in motel rooms. I enjoy Loki’s company and from the sparkle in his eyes and the spring in his step, I guess he enjoys mine, too...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The quinjet touches down, jolting me from a light sleep. I blink in bleary confusion, disorientated. Why is it so warm, why am I wearing such light clothes, what’s that pervasive whirring? Reality comes back with a crash: we’re not in Norway any more. I’m dressed for summer, not endless, freezing nights. The quinjet is taxiing into the hangar.

Loki sits next to me, leaning back against the fuselage, eyes closed, hands folded in his lap. Still half-asleep, I stare at his chiselled face. Unforgiving cabin lights illuminate the planes and the angle of his jaw, the shadows under his eyes, the lines from the slight frown that is permanently etched into between his brows. Wing-tip strobes reflect in his hair, a strange mirage of red and green highlights. He looks unreal.

I poke him unceremoniously in the ribs, “Wake up sleepy-head, we’re home.”

He lets out a warning growl, “Touch me again and you’ll lose that finger.”

I chuckle, unstowing my bag.

“Welcome home, folks!” Clint calls from the pilot’s chair as the engines shut down with a soft whine, “Please make sure you have your valuables and proceed to the door in an orderly fashion. Shore-leave will last approximately four days, so don’t go too far. It is… nineteen oh eight local time, so get settled in and relax. Dinner will be served approximately half an hour after you remember to order it.” He spins the chair around and grins at me, “Enjoy the holiday?”

I swing my pack over my shoulder, “Oh, sure! Nothing like two weeks in a Norway to really highlight the joys of America. Like sunlight. And only one layer of clothing.”

Loki barks a laugh. Just as we reach the ramp, Clint shouts from the cockpit, “Wait!”

I pause, hand hovering over the opening mechanism, “Why?”

“There’s an urgent message coming through.”

“What? Can’t they wait until we’ve gotten through the front door?” I grumble, making my way to the nose of the craft to lean over Clint’s shoulder. The screen flickers and Tony appears.

“Glad you’re home safe. There’s something important I need to brief Antlers and Eagle about, come straight to sublevel 16. Hawkeye, see you on level 1, boardroom 3.”

The screen freezes as the feed cuts off.

“What the fuck was that?” Clint snorts in derision, “Since when does he order us around like lackies? ‘Level 1, board room 3’,” he mocks in an impression of Tony’s voice, “Sir, yes, sir!” He gets up from the pilot seat, still muttering to himself.

I can’t stop staring at Tony’s face on the monitor. There’s something odd about it.

“Guys? Come back here a min, would you?”

There’s no sound, but I feel Loki’s presence behind me so I don’t jump when he speaks, “What is it?”

“Look at that,” I point to Tony’s frozen face, “Does he look normal to you?”

“You’re asking _me_ if the man of iron looks _normal_?”

I roll my eyes, “Let me rephrase that… Does anything look unusual, like, he doesn’t look the way he normally does?”

Loki peers at the image as Clint comes over too. “Hard to say. People don’t usually look their best on a paused image.”

I flick my fingers over the controls, running the recording back and replaying it.

“He looks tired, and stressed… So no, nothing unusual,” Clint shrugs.

I stare at the image, trying to pick out what’s bugging me. Then it clicks. But I need to be sure… “Is there any way to get a better quality image?”

“Uh… “ Clint drags a hand down his face, “You could get the original file from the main server, but I doubt you have clearance – ”

“Don’t need it.” My fingers fly over the keypad, finding back doors and loopholes, diving through firewalls and passed security clearances without pause.

Clint stares at the switching tabs with his mouth open. “And I thought Tony was good at code…”

“Yeah, living with a robot in your brain does that to ya.” I force the temporary file manager to regurgitate the high-res footage and copy it to the quinjet’s data drive.

After a few seconds, the file opens, playing the clip again, “Glad you’re home safe – “ I stare at it, dread pooling in my gut with every passing second, and sink into the co-pilot’s seat with a sigh.

Loki puts his hand on my shoulder, “What do you see?”

I gesture to the frozen image again, “Think back to when you fought Asset. Anything in his eyes look familiar?”

He considers for a moment, then draws a sharp breath.

“What’s wrong with him?” Clint peers at the image.

“See the fine black lines within the iris? Those are the feelers of a spirit-killer. It’s the same as I had.”

“But, I thought it turned your eyes yellow? And his are still brown.” Clint sounds almost hopeful.

“The experimental drugs did that to me, not the implants. No, he’s under someone’s control alright. The clipped tone, distant expression. He’s not himself.”

“Ah shit,” Clint turns away with a heavy sigh, “Another mind-controlled jack-ass on the lose.”

Both Loki and I wince, and I feel a wash of regret from Clint as he turns back to us, claps a hand on Loki’s shoulder and gives me a nod, “Sorry, didn’t mean it like that.” He turns away, running a hand through his cropped hair. Loki looks at him sharply, uncertainty and surprise in his face, but Clint ploughs on, “Okay, so presuming the boss is compromised, I guess it’s safe to say that everyone else is, too.” He lets out a ragged sigh, “This is bad.”

I shrug one shoulder, “Maybe, maybe not. We’ve got a minute, I’ll have a look-see.”

“We don’t got a minute,” Clint gestures to the monitor. Two security guards are approaching the quinjet. They stop short of the raised ramp and signal the camera to lower it. 

I grab my pack from the floor, “Right, plan B: pretend we didn’t notice anything and make the best of what we find.”

“You got it.” Clint gives me a sad smile, “Be careful out there.”

“You, too. Thanks for the smooth flight, you really are the best pilot. And thank you for everything else, too.” I give him a tight hug and a peck on the cheek.

Clint’s eyes are soft as he pats my shoulder, “It was my pleasure, sweetheart.”

Loki brushes past us toward the lowering ramp. I grab his arm, “Loki…”

He looks at me, and for an instant uncertainty clouds his face, but he pushes it away. He grasps Clint’s hand and gives him a curt nod, which the other man returns, then he’s gone, down the ramp. I sense a shift in the air, but it’s too subtle to discern. I pause for a second, trying to define the feeling.

“Come,” Loki calls from the bottom of the ramp. I roll my eyes at his unintentionally degrading mannerism and follow him like the good girl that I am. The cool night air raises goosebumps on my bare skin. I’m so used to layers of clothing, it’s wonderful to feel the breeze again. I want to jump and skip and run around, throw myself on the soft grass, but not today. We walk briskly to the foyer, trailed by one guard. The other is walking with Clint, a few paces behind us. No one says anything. In the foyer, we separate to elevators on opposite sides of the room. Clint’s arrives first. He steps in and turns, catching my eye and winking just as the doors close. A burst of warmth and affection blooms in my chest, and I file the memory away carefully.

Our lift arrives, the guard stays in the foyer. As soon as we’re alone, I glance up at Loki’s face. It’s a carefully blank mask. His eyes flick to the security camera in the corner. I know we’re being watched; I step closer and slip my hand into his, something I’ve done many times on elevator rides in the Norway lab, only this time his fingers are twitching, and they close around mine in a surprisingly desperate grasp. I close my eyes and lean my head against his shoulder, a pretext to reaching across to him with my awareness, pushing at the barriers around his mind, silently asking what’s wrong. A crack appears in the wall. I press myself to it, reaching through, trying to understand. Paralysing fear brushes past me, chased by rage and indignation, followed by depression, which is dragging panic behind it. Memories of his time under the control of the Mind-stone flicker and flash, the pain and humiliation, the timelessness and torture. Memories of Asset, her cold eyes, the deadly efficiency of her movements, her hands around his neck –

I pull away, slipping back into the here and now and give Loki’s shaking hand a reassuring squeeze. He takes a deep breath, and some of the tension leaves him on the exhale.

Sixteen levels below the foyer, the lift decelerates and the G-forces press me into the floor. The doors open without a sound. We step out, still hand in hand. Through our connection, I feel Loki drawing on my strength, and I welcome it; a flash of pride makes my lips twitch in a smile. The lift doors close and it whirs away, rising back up to the surface.

Three people are gathered in the centre of the bunker-like research lab, around a table. A hologram bobs in the air, displaying a ‘please wait’ message. As we approach the little group, Wanda turns and her face lights up when she sees me.

“Aquilla! You’re back!”

I return her greeting, wrapping her in a half-hug because I won’t let go of Loki’s hand. Wanda glances at our joined hands and looks back at me with both eyebrows raised high. A blush rises at her enquiring expression; of course, no one here is aware of how much has changed between us. How much I’ve changed.

“I’ll explain later,” I murmur.

“You better,” She mock-whispers, taking my other hand and leading us to the table. Vision smiles at us in welcome, and Stephen claps me on the shoulder.

“Nice to see you again, Aquilla. How was Norway?”

“Cold. Seriously, I didn’t know how much I appreciated being able to wear sandals.”

Wanda giggles adorably and I wink at her. She’s been my fashionista since we became friends after discovering we had both been binge-watching Mr Robot over the same few weeks.

Stephen turns to Loki, “Did the cold remind you of home?”

Loki’s eyes go hard. He drops my hand abruptly, jaw tightening, “Midgardian temperatures could never come close those of Jotunheim, a fact of which I am glad, as I do not need to be reminded of that place.”

Vision clears his throat in the awkward pause that follows and tactfully changes the subject, “Aquilla, did you, by chance, get to see the fjords? They are quite spectacular this time of year.”

“Ah, well, _I_ didn’t have the time or energy to go out and see them for myself. But Loki did, and he showed me,” I take his hand again, and feel three pairs of eyes suddenly trained on us, “And they were indeed glorious.” I give Loki a small smile, meant just for him, and his expression softens slightly.

“So,” I half-sit on the table, “What are we waiting for? Anyone know?”

“No,” Vision sounds pensive, “It seems we were all told to come here, but no one knows why.”

The hologram flickers and a new message appears, ‘Thank you for your service.’

“’Thank you for your service’?” Wanda looks around in confusion, “What – “

A whirring sound fills the air. The air vents in the walls and ceiling rattle and creak, spewing black dust into the air. But it’s more than dust, it moves and swirls like a living thing. The cloud roils and strikes at us, but Wanda keeps it back with her magic. Vision rises into the air, the blast from the Mind-stone lasering through the cloud, but it parts to let the beam through. The energy cuts into a section of wall and the ceiling cracks. Cement dust rains down on us.

“Vis, stop! You’ll bring the roof down on us!” Wanda shouts. I splay my hands above my head, helping her keep a bubble of protection around our little group. The black cloud swirls around us like a sandstorm.

“Wanda, can you hold this by yourself for a moment? I need to see with what we’re dealing.”

“Yes!” She’s breathing hard. I release my layer of fortification, letting her take the weight of the black cloud that’s pressing in on us inexorably. The cloud is so thick it would be pitch black if not for Wanda’s glowing red dome.

Very carefully, I place my hands together on the wall of the bubble, then ease them apart, creating a window of my own magic. The cloud recoils from me, but I reach into it, grab fleck of black sand and snap the window shut. The single grain floats in another tiny bubble of yellow light. It bumps into the walls, trying to get closer to me, but I keep it away with a wave of my fingers.

“Come here, Loki. I need you.”

“As you command, my lady.” Loki is by my side in an instant. I hold the little marble of light in my palm, focussing all my intension on it, it’s history, it’s purpose. The world blurs and drips away, lost in greys and dark purple. The tiny speck is suddenly huge, and living thing, with an intention of its own. It swims against the tide of my magic, desperately trying to reach the destination of my brain, where it will be safe and warm and fed. I reach into its memory, flying back through time, watching as the speck circles the red dome, as it recedes into the air vents, back into the holding tanks, back into –

Oh, fuck no –

I collapse into Loki’s waiting arms. He holds me upright as the world spins. The little glowing orb is warm in my palm. I stare at it in horror, then slap my hands together, forcing my magic through the creature’s structure, blowing it apart atom by atom.

“What did you see?” His soothing voice murmurs in my ear.

“It was me…” My voice is weak. I shake my head, slapping myself, trying to get back into reality. “This will keep up until we are no longer strong enough to hold it back, then when it breaches the barrier, the spores will burrow into our heads, into our brains, to lodge there and grow. If we don’t die, we will be taken over.”

“I don’t understand,” Stephen shakes his head, “What – What are they?”

I stare into his confused blue-green eyes, “Control units. Spirit-killers. Remember the pea-pod thing in my brain? Well, this is the upgrade of that.”

His face goes slack. I turn to Vision. “This is why we’re down here. We’re the ones that can’t be controlled by conventional means. The rest of the people in the main building are probably already under command, those that are compatible, anyway. But we’re different, maybe we can’t be controlled by this technology. Hence we’re trapped down here, with more than enough to kill us if necessary.”

“Aquilla…?” Wanda’s voice shakes, “I can’t hold this for much longer.”

“Okay, this is what we do: Wanda, I will take the load, let you rest. Stephen, can you sling us out of here?”

“Yes, I – “ He gropes around his waist for a second, “No… No, he took it! Damn it!”

“Loki, see if you can portal them? Doesn’t matter where, just outta here.”

“Of course.”

“Good. Jump to it!”

I stand in the centre of the dome, hands outstretched over my head, replacing Wanda’s red dome with my yellow one. With more time to prepare, I let the structure grow stronger, more thickly, like bulletproof glass instead of glad-wrap. The power flows through me continuously, out of my raised hands and in through my feet. I am rooted to the spot, unable to move without breaking the self-perpetuating cycle. Wanda staggers to the table and leans on it, breathing heavily. Loki bows his head, takes Stephen’s arm in a firm grip. There is a strange feeling of suction, like the tide going out before a wave, and both men vanish in a roil of black and green. A breathless second later, the other-worldly mist spits Loki back out. He sways alarmingly and Wanda puts out a hand to steady him, but he flinches away from her touch. He moves closer until our opposite shoulders almost touch, drops he gaze and murmurs for my ears only, “It’s different. I can’t travel beyond a mile away.”

"Is Stephen safe?"

"Yes."

“Then that's fine.”

His eyes search my face, “What if I’m not strong enough?”

I smile reassuringly up at him, “Take what strength from me that you need. I have faith in you.”

Loki bows his head and turns away. I meet Visions gaze and nod, knowing his cybernetic hearing would have picked up our soft words. He turns to Loki, “Perhaps you could take me only far enough from the building so as not to be seen. Say, down by the river, where Aquilla used to go in springtime. I wish to remain nearby, to observe.”

I mouth a silent ‘thank you’ to Vision. He grasps Loki’s arm, meets Wanda’s eyes and gives her a small smile. She blows him a kiss as another black and green flash swallows the two men.

Wanda turns to me, “I don’t think he can do that much longer. How will you two get out?”

“We’ll take the stairs,” I state confidently, even though I don’t in fact have any idea. At that moment, Loki reappears.

“Vision is by the river, as requested. He said to expect you to state in no uncertain terms that you would be joining him there?”

Wanda looks a little deflated, then shrugs and takes Loki’s proffered hand.

“Hold on tight,” He takes her other hand as well, and then they’re gone.

I wait for several seconds before Loki reappears. With the witnesses gone, he falls to the ground.

Apprehension shoots through me. Did he push too far? “Loki, talk to me… When you have a breath to spare. Are you alright?”

He nods, rolling onto his back, “It’s so… thick. The feel has changed since last time I teleported, as though the space has become… glutinous. It’s somewhat disconcerting. And really tiring.”

“But you’re okay?”

He opens his eyes and looks up at me, upside down to him, “Yes, little bird, I’ll be okay.”

“Good.” The strain of holding the dome out from us is increasing. “Either I’m getting tired, or the spores are pressing in harder. The dome’s getting smaller for the same amount of effort.”

Loki gets up with a groan and I let the dome pull inward, becoming just enough space to hold us.

“Shall I portal us out?”

“No. In the split second that I let this drop to travel, they’ll have us. I need to reverse it…”

He cocks his head in confusion.

“This is a ball around us, yeah? Well, I’m going to make it a ball around the spores. It’ll give us time to get out the door, at least. You need to cast an illusion for the cameras down here so the boys watching don’t see the situation change. Keep it looking like it does right now.”

Loki’s eyes glaze over for a second and green tints highlight the shadows on his face briefly.

“Done.”

“Okay. This will be difficult, please don’t let me fall.”

His eyes soften for an instant, “Never.” He steps closer still, wrapping his arms around my waist very lightly, just enough to reassure and be there if I falter. Before I can get lost in his proximity and his cool breath on my cheek, I pour myself into the energy flowing from my hands up into the dome. Spread across the surface, feeling the press of the spores. So many, so single-minded. From my feet, spread across the floor, out until there are no spores above, then rise, drawing a curtain up and over the roiling cloud. It does not see, it doesn’t know it’s been tricked. As the curtain meets at the apex, the shape snaps into a sphere, holding the spores in a giant, golden ball of light, at least 12’ across.

I stare up at the giant creation floating on my fingertips. Carefully, I release it, letting it float to the floor. The spores still strive to reach us, but they are trapped.

“That won’t last long; the further away I am, the weaker it gets. Let’s go!”

We sprint to the staircase door, Loki places a binding spell on it and we start the endless climb up 16 levels of stairs. After two flights my legs are burning, but the adrenaline pushes me onward. After three more levels, a deep rumbling shakes the stairs. I meet Loki’s wide-eyed gaze. Explosions below us shake the stairs. Darkness blinds me as the lights go out. Loki grabs my hand and hauls my along. After a mind-numbing spiral of cold metal, I collapse against the foyer door, legs shaking too much to stand.  
“Oh, great!” I gasp for air, “It’s blocked!”

“Hangar tunnel door was intact,” Loki is doubled over, hands braced on his knees. A panel by the door catches my eye, much like a bottle of water to a man dying of thirst; I rip it open and dive my hands into the wiring and circuitry behind it, pulling the energy from the building. It’s a fizzy, insubstantial, but better than nothing. I force myself to stand, “You okay?”

Loki raises his head, still breathing heavily, “Too many stairs!”

I laugh and grab his hand, “Come on, going down!”

A crash echoes up the stairwell as we jump down the stairs one level, bursting through the door into the basement–hangar tunnel.

The lights flicker on for a second, blinding me after the darkness, but the orange glow delineates the exit, at the end of what looks like a mile of shaking corridor. The ground heaves and we are thrown along, tumbling and rolling on a wave of concrete. Glass and sparks shower down around us. The door bursts, splintering wood and bent steel as the ceiling sags alarmingly and the walls crack. Flame licks up the walls and pools across the ceiling. I’m distracted with controlling the fire, keeping it away from us when Loki grabs me around the waist and throws me clear as the door frame collapses and rubble bears down on him. I run back to him, pushing the fire away.

“Go!” He gasps, face twisted in agony.

“Don’t be stupid!” I drive my intention between the atoms of the largest block that pins him, forcing them apart. The block splits and crumbles. He staggers upright, wincing, and we shuffle and hop our way farther into the building. The quinjet stands on rubber-less tyres, wreathed in flame. The heat is relentless, I can’t keep it out, there’s too much fire, too much smoke, not enough air! I sling Loki’s arm over my shoulder, put all my will into the protective shell I have created around us and stumble toward the service door.

Cool air hits me like a slap in the face. The shell vanishes with a slight popping sound and Loki staggers away from my support. The tremblings and rumblings have eased, the ground is solid under our feet again. I brace my hands on my knees, gasping for breath. When the world stops spinning, I straighten up and look around. The main building is mostly intact, but the hangar fire reflects erratic in many broken windows, and on side of the architecture over the foyer door has collapsed. Ash and smoke clouds the air. People are moving around the main doors, but no one is near us.

Loki limps over to a listing lamppost and leans against it, eyes closed, weight off one foot. His hair is matted with sweat and blood, rubble dust covers his clothes. I’m not much better off; my shirt is burned through in places, a cut on my arm drips slowly into the dirt. And I’ve lost a shoe. Not surprising really, the light sandals weren’t made for running from certain death. I cover my mouth in a vain attempt to stifle a giggle. Loki opens one eye and glares at me like an owl at midday. “What in the world…?”

“Sorry,” I croak, but I can’t stop it now. I double over, laughing silently. “Please say – “ I dissolve into giggles again, but force myself into composure, “Say, ‘you lost a shoe’.”

Loki gives me a condescending look, “You lost a shoe?”

“Nah, dude – I found one!” I collapse in hysterical laughter.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” His lips quirk in response to my infectious mirth and he shakes his head. “Crazy little human.”

I gasp a breath and wipe the tears from my face, “That was a Jeff Dunham and Peanut joke. It doesn’t make sense out of context, but thanks for humouring me.”

“Oh, I think _you_ did all the humouring. Now, can we go?”

I scramble up a pile of rubble to get a look at our predicament. There is a whirling noise sweeping in from the north and I duck instinctively as a drone zooms overhead, banking sharply to overfly again, blasting the concealing smoke away with its propellers.

“Quill, get down here!” Loki hisses in panic. Green mist twists around his fingers in preparation to cast an illusion.

“No, let me do it!” I slither and slide down the pile, throw myself in front of Loki and cast as illusion over us. The drone circles and hovers, canning the area, then zooms off to the south. I let out a breath I didn’t realise I had been holding and lower the illusion. Only then do I realise I’m pressed against Loki from chest to toe. His dark green eyes are inches from mine, cool breath on my cheek. I am lost in his eyes for a second that lasts an eternity, then push abruptly away from him.

“Sorry,” I shake my head violently, “It’s easier to hide a smaller target.”

He doesn’t say anything, just stares at me with an unreadable expression.

“That drone will be back, probably with people. Can you walk?”

He tests the injured leg, winces, then nods, “Why didn’t you let me cast the illusion?”

I frown, “Because your magic is limited, and if we need to get out of here in a hurry then we’re going to need all of it.”

Loki’s jaw tightens and he glares at me, “My magic is not limited.”

“I don’t mean like that!“ I back-pedal hurriedly, holding up my hands in supplication, “I simply meant that you have a finite supply at any given time, and using it depletes your potential until you have time to recharge, so to speak. Same for me!” He relaxes slightly but still looks offended. “I grabbed a top-up from the building. I have much more than you, right now. And if we need to get out of here in a hurry – and I mean really _outta_ here, not just a mile but maybe a few state lines – then we’re going to need all of our combined power, because I have the resources and you have the experience, so to speak.”

Loki shakes his head, “That’s purely theoretical. Some say it can’t be done.”

“Eh, can’t be done, never been done before – not the same thing…”

“None who have achieved the state have survived it with their sanity intact.”

I put my hand on his arm, “Yes, well, it’s a good thing we’re both a bit crazy then, isn’t it?

“How can you be so sure it will work?”

“I just am. Do you trust me?”

He stares into my eyes for a second longer than necessary, then nods.

I open my mouth to add something else when Loki focuses over my shoulder and the blood drains from his face. I rotate on the spot, muscles tensing. On the top of a pile of rubble stand two men in full body armour, looking around. They both see us at the exact same moment and swing their guns up in unison.

One shouts, “Freeze! Do not move!” His voice is mechanical, probably distorted by the mask. The other one mutters into a radio on his shoulder. They make their way down the rubble pile. I stare in horror at the men’s aura’s; they are grey and turning so slowly as to be almost still. I’ve never seen anything similar; this is not good at all.

I spin back to face Loki, “Time’s up!”

For a split second our eyes meet, he shoves his fingers into my hair, palm pressed to my forehead; the tingling pull of our connection tugs sharply. I don’t even wait for the link to open properly to reach into his mind and pour my magic into his. Time distorts, colour swirls, distantly I am aware of modulated screams. The portal swallows us, blackness consumes us, pulling, pushing, tearing us into a million pieces. Memories flash and whirl; distorted images, voices, music, gunfire, screams, laughter, explosion, whispers; flashes of colour and light. All of the present, a continuously modulating instant from the lives of over 7 billion people, twists and wraps around us, two souls unhitched from the fabric of reality. The colours reflect in Loki’s awe-struck face. I wrap both arms around him and focus all my intention towards a place of which I’ve only heard; a quiet place, far away from the terror and confusion. Loki’s training and experience refines the search and directs us toward the destination.

The sensation of enormous speed pushes the hair back from my face, even though there’s no wind. We hurtle along a tunnel of distorted images and light. The ambient colour scheme changes from daylight to night, the cacophony becomes subdued, morphing to the sounds of the ocean. A patch of noise and colour flashes past and then we’re alone with darkness and quiet, the occasional flash tinting the walls of the tunnel with a warm orange hue.

Suddenly it’s there, all around us, a dark, deserted tract of land, trees hanging heavy branches of leaves and seed pods, unkempt grass and wildflowers. The fabric of reality yanks us back into its weave, the sensation of being reordered and coalesced makes my head spin. The portal spits us unceremoniously onto soft grass –


	14. To the Void and Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When there's someone I really love and respect, I keep them at a distance so it won't hurt as much when they leave. But the question is, if I'd been honest about my feelings for them, would it have been enough to make them stay...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lunar Operations - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=czdwovU5Knc

I cough and role over, groaning. Everything hurts, like I’ve been punched and stretched and squeezed and run over. Something hard bumps my elbow, and I shy away, but it’s only a headstone. I peer up at it in the gloom. The words ‘Basha Doltevsky’, the date of birth and death, followed by, ‘Beloved daughter, friend, wife and mother.’ I press my hand to the cold stone and whisper, “Hi, Mum.”

There is no reply. What did I expect, she’s been dead for years. A few feet away is a dark shape, lying still on the damp grass. I crawl to him, press my hands, cold and wet from the dew, to his face, slap him, but he’s barely breathing. How long was I out? Oh, gods, no, please –

“Loki!” I try to shout, but only a hoarse croak emerges.

His energy is dangerously low, a faint glow. I place my hand over his heart and let my magic trickle into his, slowly this time, carefully, replacing what was used in the thousands of miles of travel. Weariness shuffles into exhaustion but his light starts to shine again, and I collapse against him as he draws a ragged breath and opens his eyes.

“Oh gods, Loki, I’m so sorry,” I rasp, “I didn’t know – “

“It’s alright. I’m here.”

“You very nearly weren’t.”

“But I am,” He sits up and I role away, bone-weary. Tears clouds my vision, but I push them down. Loki picks himself up gingerly and looks around. “Where are we?”

“In a cemetery.”

“I can see that. What town?”

“Toowoomba.”

“What… country?”

“Australia.”

“ _What?!_ ”

I chuckle dryly.

He sounds incredulous, “We teleported over nine thousand miles.

"Yep. Through glutinous sub-ether, pure chaos and indecision. Suffice to say we won’t be doing that again anytime soon."

"How are we even alive right now?”

“Like I said,” I push myself up to lean against the headstone, wincing, “There’s never been any two quite like us.”

Loki slips off his coat and shakes it, creating a cloud of dust in the still night air. I cough and flap my hand in front of my face. He glares at me and shrugs the ruined garment back on with as much aplomb as he can muster. “Australia? Of all places?”

“Remote, sparsely populated… What better stage from which to watch the world burn…” My voice fades, eyes drift closed. Cool fingers pressing lightly into my thready pulse.

“Quill?”

“’m tired…”

“I know nothing of this country. Where do we go from here?”

“Don’t know yet,” I grin up at him, drunk with exhaustion, “Just know I’ll know it when I know. You know?”

He shakes his head, the ever-present frown deepening, “Be careful, Quill. The amount of magic you’ve used recently, it’s not natural. The price will be high. I don’t want you to – “ He stops abruptly, snapping his mouth shut as if trapping words that cannot be spoken.

“’T’s okay, trust me.” I reach back and pat the headstone, “See that?”

Loki peers around me, reading the inscription, eyes widening, “This is your mother’s grave?”

“Yep.”

“Did you know her?”

I giggle, “Of course, silly, she gave me life. But I don’t remember her.” The bubble of levity pops, “My life before I was taken is a distant blur. I didn’t even know where she was buried. But now, it’s coming back, little by little, in feelings and half-remembered glimpses. We lived in this town, once…” My eyes glaze over at the memory, weeping willows and soft grass, gurgling water, ducks feasting on bread crumbs –

Loki’s voice pulls me back, “Where do we go, Quill?”

“We have to find her old house.”

“Won’t there be people living in it by now?”

“No. Don’t ask, it’s a long story. Can you cast illusions, keep us out of sight?”

He nods, placing a hand over mine on my knee, “How will you find this place?”

I smile faintly, “Ah, a new trick: I’m going to disconnect from this body and follow the call of memory to it’s source. Asset will then follow our connection to where I am, wherever that is.”

Loki looks sceptical, “That sounds incredibly dangerous. What if – “

“We don’t have time for ‘what if’s!” I snap, pushing his hand away, “The time for caution is gone! You could barely teleport a mile _before_ I gave you my magic, and what with reviving you after the trip, I barely have any left! We don’t have a choice!”

His eyes go cold and he gets up. I try to grab his hand, tears pricking my eyes, regret for my thoughtless words, but he pulls away from. I reach out to him, pleading. Loki stares down at me, face set in hard lines. “If I’m such an inconvenience to you, why don’t you just go on without me. I’m sure you’ll do just fine.”

My mouth falls open, “What?! Why would I ever do that? Loki, you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I’m sorry, I didn’t think it through. I never meant to sound so spiteful.” A tear runs down my cheek.

His blank mask cracks as he takes a deep breath and looks away, out over the gently rolling slopes of gravestones, gnawing his bottom lip.

“Look, if we spend too much time outside, we’ll be spotted. We can’t risk that.” I stifle a small sob, “Please, I can’t do this without you.”

He avoids my gaze, “Alright.”

I let out a shaky sigh of relief, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he murmurs, crouching down again and taking my hand, pressing it between palms, “I – “ Words fail him for a second time. I tuck a strand of hair behind his ear. His eyes flick up involuntarily, and the depth in them threatens to drown me.

"I really am sorry. I'm dazed and confused, I never meant to be mean. I have to go now. Come find me, okay?”

He nods, gaze dropping to our joined hands. The oddly familiar feeling of falling backwards drops me into a different kind of darkness. The world shifts, receding in my awareness until barely a dream. The feel of warm cotton and the smell of green tea pulls me up and away, follow the feeling until I find the source, wait in the drift, calling to Asset to follow –

_R_ _ise_ _and_ _straighten my clothes._ _Start walking due eas_ _t_ _at_ _a steady pace._ _T_ _he man_ _falls into step beside_ _me, limping slightly, and together we walk across the cemetery to the street._ _He speaks, but I ignore him. There’s a pull in my chest, a glowing rope of yellow light, thin as spider silk yet s_ _tronger than steel_ _._ _It cuts a straight line through the city, wafting through buildings. I follow the direction as best I can, jumping fences and cutting across parks and parking lots._

 _There are no other people about, and very few cars._ _The man_ _casts a simple illusion over us so that to the casual observer, we aren’t even there. T_ _he star_ _s_ _wheel above us, the street lights blur into a continuous stream of yellow orbs_ _._ _Block after block passes under m_ _y_ _feet,_ _w_ _hich_ _are c_ _ut and_ _bruised,_ _b_ _ut_ _I don’t_ _care._

 _The sun is peaking over the horizon when w_ _e reach the l_ _ittle house_ _._ _It’_ _s quiet and closed. No car, no sign of habitation,_ _an overgrown front yard_ _. T_ _he man_ _breaks the_ _lock on the back door and we slip inside. The_ _re is no_ _alarm._ _N_ _o one has lived here for a while. The air is stale, a fine layer of dust cover the flat surfaces._

 _H_ _e_ _sneaks through the house, checking rooms while I wait by the door, eyes down, motionless._ _The line of light leads up through the ceiling, but I don’t want to follow it any more._ _The man_ _returns from the upper story._ _He pauses in the hallway._ _I stare at him blankly,_ _h_ _e stares into my eyes for a while, frown deepening as I g_ _aze_ _i_ _nto his_ _, then turns away and disappears down a hallway. A moment later he returns._

_“Quill?”_

_I put my head to one side,_ _“_ _Unrecognised title._ _”_ _My voice is soft, deadpan._

 _His_ _eyes widen and he_ _takes my_ _hand gently, “It's_ _your name.”_

_“Incorrect. Designation: Asset 47.”_

_“_ _No. You_ _ar_ _e_ _more than that._ _”_

 _I frown_ _. “_ _What is_ _there,_ _more than that?_ _”_

 _The_ _man winces slightly at my question. “_ _Everything._ _You are so much more than just a machine, more than just an experiment. You are human. A human woman.”_

 _“_ _I am human?_ _”_

_The man takes my other hand as well, running his thumbs over my knuckles, “Yes.”_

_“_ _No, humans live. You refer to the other. She lives; I_ _exist.”_

_His brows quirk up in the centre, and moisture glistens in his eyes, “That’s not true. You are alive right now. Your heart beats, your breath moves in your lungs. Your skin is warm. You are alive.”_

_A strange, unfamiliar feeling pulls at my heart and a prickly heat swells behind my eyes._ _H_ _e steps closer and I_ _shy away from_ _him._ _Loki, the name echoes up from the depths_ _._ _H_ _e_ _places a hand on my cheek. I draw in a s_ _harp_ _breath at the contact that makes my heart_ _contract painfully._ _His dark eyes stare into mine, into the darkness where my soul used to be._ _I put my hand over his, feeling the texture of his skin, the ridges of the tendons and bones._

 _“_ _No, Loki. I exist to continue existence;_ _that_ _is not living._ _The other lives, because of you._ _”_

 _The golden thread connected to my chest swells and coils back on itself._ _The wor_ _l_ _d d_ _issolves in a kaleidoscope of muted colours._ _From a great distance, I hear Loki calling my name._ _I am_ _dissolving. There is no time here, just an endless ‘now’._ _Darkness, warmth, peace –_

Reality snaps back into focus. Cold air, pain, Loki’s arms around me, tears on my cheeks. The intensity is disorientating. I twist away from his support but my legs give out and I land heavily on the wooden floor, bruising my hip. Still disorientated, I scuttle backwards away from him.

“Quill?” His soft query makes my heart pound.

My back hits the kitchen cabinets. Nowhere to run now, I stare at Loki, crouched a few feet from me, watching me like he would a wild animal. I shake my head violently, trying to make sense of the confusion: should I run _to_ him or _from_ him? I am scared or safe? Asset doesn’t cry, why are there tears on my face? Why is there such a deep longing, a desperate, resigned loneliness pulling at my heart? The memory of Asset’s words hits me like a fist in the gut. Her voice isn’t new to me but she’s never spoken to anyone else before. Why did she say she doesn't live?

I turn my face away from Loki, overwhelmed with uncertainty and shame. I don’t want him to see me like this. I’ve never let my composure slip with anyone but Stephen. Only he has spoken to Asset, only he knows how crazy I can get in times like this, but he’s not here. Fresh tears run down my face.

“Aquilla? Can you hear me?” Loki’s voice is soft, placating. How stupid I’m being, hiding from him when he’s the only person in the world right now I can trust. I pull myself upright, leaning on the kitchen counter, and reluctantly meet his calculating gaze.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, trying to control the shaking in my limps, “It’s just a bit much – “ A sob claws it’s way out, breaking my words. I clamp a hand over my mouth instinctively, as I have done for so long, and turn away to hide my pain, but Loki will have none of it. He closes the abyssal distance between us and spins me back to face him, prizing my fingers away from my face.

“Look at me.”

I close my eyes and turn my head away, wishing the ground would open up and swallow me.

“Look at me!” He snaps, inches from my face. I jump in fright and freeze; he’s never used that tone on me before.

“There’s nowhere to run to any more. No Doctor to whisk you away, no forest to lose yourself in, no place to hide.” His green eyes blaze and I curl in on myself, shaking with shame and intimidation. He continues in a deadly whisper, “You told me Asset was a mute creature, a feeling, an instinct. But that’s not true, is it! She _spoke_ to me! She _knew my name!_ ”

“I know,” I whisper, eyes downcast.

He turns abruptly and stalks away, then spins around, one finger raised, “You _lied_ to me about her, Quill. W hat else have you _lied_ about?”

“I haven’t lied about anything!” I’m shaking so badly I can barely stand, but the anger at his accusation drives me on, “She _was_ a mute, instinctual creature when I first found her, curled up in the back of my mind! I raised her up and gave her a voice!”

“Oh, how noble of you!” He laughs cruelly, “And when she could speak, you silenced her yourself!”

“How _dare you?!”_ I scream at him, “You have _no idea_ what it was like, having two people in here! D’you think it’s all happiness, laughter and friendship? Really? Well, I hate to break it to ya, but it’s _fucking_ _insanity_ , that’s what it is! I couldn’t keep my food down, couldn’t sleep, couldn’t have a normal conversation, couldn’t keep track of time, _couldn’t_ _fucking_ _live!”_

I gasp for breath. Loki stares at me, open-mouthed.

“I’m _so sorry_ that I didn’t keep you updated on the minutia of my existence,” I sneer, sarcasm dripping from my tone, “but at the time, it seemed more appropriate to keep my _borderline_ _insanity_ to myself, since it in no way affected you.”

Loki blinks a few times, and snaps his mouth shut without a word. My anger dissipates in a flash and I lean on the kitchen counter, exhausted, “It’s been getting better, we’ve come to an arrangement. We’ve been coexisting peacefully for a while, and recently we started working together. You have no idea how long it took to teach her how to see and feel enough to follow me through the world like she did today. But it’s been _bloody_ hard work, and I never knew if I would be the same person after a session that I was at the start. Every time, I talked with Stephen for a few hours after to make sure I was _still_ _me!_ I am sorry I kept secrets, but I thought it better than the unnecessary burden of my problems.”

Loki takes a step toward me, and I back away. His voice is soft, disconcertingly affectionate, “Why did you try so desperately to keep this from me?”

“I didn’t want you to see how fucked up I was.”

He advances slowly, never taking his eyes off mine, "Why?"

The pressure in my chest increases with his proximity. I gulp shallow breaths, unable to think fast enough to twist the truth into a more acceptable form, “It would break my heart to lose you, and I am terrified of that, because it could happen so easily.”

“Why do you think that?” He backs me into the wall, trapping me, hands braced on either side of my head. I avert my gaze, blinking back tears, “I’m not worth your time and effort! I’m not worth your patience!”

“ _I_ decide that, _not_ you,” he growls. I twist against the wall, trying to find a way out, but he blocks my escape. “Why are you hiding from me?”

I swat at his arm and push feebly against his chest, sobs claw at my throat but I swallow them desperatly, pushing down the confusion that rages inside. I want to run away and hide, I want to fall into his waiting arms. I can’t stand this, “Please – “

He grips my chin in one hand, forcing me to look at him, “Don’t give me the poor defenceless woman act. I know full well you could lay me out if you wanted to, so I’m going to ask again: why are you hiding from me?”

 _“_ _Because_ _I don’t deserve you!_ _”_ I shout in his face, my trembling hands balled into fists, pounding ineffectually on his chest. “I’m twisted and broken, fighting everyday just to stay sane! I’m nothing like you, why would you ever see _anything_ in me? How could you _ever_ see in me what _I_ see in _you_? I’m _worthless!_ I am nothing – I’m – “ Sobs I can no longer control shake my body, shame and self-hatred gripping my heart, “I don’t deserve – “ I collapse in on myself, falling against him, weeping uncontrollably. He holds me as I bawl into his shoulder.

“I’m not going anywhere, little bird,” he murmurs, but that just makes me cry more.

“Why? I have nothing to offer that you couldn’t find elsewhere, in better shape…”

“Why do you look at it like a trade agreement? Can I not enjoy your company for its own sake?” Loki sways me gently side to side as I pour out my insecurities, hands clutching desperately at the back of his torn and dusty jacket.

When I am calm enough to catch my breath, I lean into him, really feeling the hug for the first time; the sound of his heart under my ear, his hands on my back, his scent mixed with ash and dirt. I push away gently, and he gives me space. A ray of morning sunlight peeks through the old curtains and illuminates his face in a rosy-golden glow, casting deep shadows across his sharp features. His eyes sparkle in the light, onyx set in emeralds and pearl. Once again, I am painfully reminded of his extraterrestrial beauty. The image blurs and tilts and before I realise what’s happening, I am once again pressed against his strong body.

“Easy does it, little bird, nearly lost you there.”

“Sorry,” I slur, trying to stand on my own, only half conscious.

“Shush, I have you,” the world tilts again as I am carried. Softness and the smell of old blankets and musty sheets pulls me to reality.

“Here, take this…” I pool the last vestiges of magic into my hand and press it into Loki’s palm. He stares in surprise at the glow dissipating under his skin, shivers as it melts away, then meets my half-closed eyes with an exasperated sigh.

“Why did you do that, Quill?”

“You need… be safe… I’ll catch up…”

“I’m not leaving you.”

I grab his hand and pull it against my chest, “Thank you…”

His reply is lost in the hum and swirl of the drift, as I fall backwards into welcoming oblivion.


	15. Made of the Same Stuff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time to regroup and recoup, part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Journey - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MO8C00bIKvM

Mellow afternoon light spills through the half-drawn curtains, laying a strip of highlight across the threadbare carpet. The cream walls are cracked, the ceiling sports an impressive collection of spiderwebs in the corners. The smell of must and dust pervades the world. I yawn hugely and stretch, groaning at the intolerable weight in my bones. I just want to sleep… My stomach grumbles. Oh well, food first, then sleep…

My clothes are folded neatly on a chair, free of grime and burn marks. Once dressed, I shuffle along the hall and down creaking wooden stairs. The house feels familiar, though I can’t place the memory. It also feels empty. I find the kitchen, intent on food. The hum of the refrigerator thermostat kicking in makes me jump. I gingerly open the door and cold air pools over my feet. Bread, milk, water, a few pieces of fruit and cheese make my mouth water. I grab a few things and take them to the counter, where I find a piece of paper folded in half, standing on its edge. A single sentence is scrawled in elegant calligraphy, _I’ll be back before dark._ I turn the paper over, but that’s it.

“Don’t waste any ink, will you.” I chuckle dryly.

After a lettuce and tomato sandwich and a glass of milk, I feel a little less frail. It only takes a few minutes to explore the house; the rooms are small, the furniture utilitarian. To my delight, the hot water works. The scalding shower leaves my skin sensitive and as pink as it ever gets. I study my reflection in the dusty mirror; yup, still a pale freak. The scars stand out, paler lines on pale skin. When they were post-surgery angry red, I had hoped that they would fade only to the point of invisibility, but no such luck. Ironic that my body used to be covered in dark lines, now they’re white.

I conjure a tiny speck of magic on my fingertips, but dizziness overcomes me. I lean heavily on the sink for a moment, fighting to keep my breakfast down. When the nausea passes I limp downstairs again and curl up on the couch, pulling a blanket over my legs. Rain patters gently on the roof, staining the patio brickwork a burnt orange. A frog croaks somewhere outside. Thunder rumbles softly in the distance. I drift away, lulled by the sound of the rain.

A gentle caress on my cheek makes me jump, eyes flying open in a panic. Loki is crouched by my side. He pulls back, regret in his eyes, “Sorry…“

“’s okay. ‘m glad you’re back,” I shuffle around to make room, still wrapped in the blanket and half asleep.

He sits next to me on the worn-out couch. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I haven’t slept for years, like m’bones are made of lead,“ I yawn and move over to sit right next to him, too zoned out to be self-conscious, seeking warmth and comfort. He hesitates a moment, then wraps one arm around my shoulders. “I’m all tired out and used up. Can’t even make a spark.” I snap my fingers and make a silly farting noise to emphasize my point.

“You just need rest, little bird.” There’s a smile in his voice. He adjusts his position on the couch so I am snuggled into his side, head pillowed on his chest. I sigh happily and yawn again. Fingers comb through my damp hair. I hum in peaceful contentment and fall into sleep.

It’s dark when I wake again, still on the couch, still curled up in the arms of a god. It takes a few minutes to get my head in order, remembering everything that happened over the last… day? Days? How long has it been? I raise my head slowly, not wanting to wake him, but two predatorily glowing eyes are watching me from under hooded lids, and curiosity gets the better of me.

“I’ve always meant to ask, why do your eyes glow?”

He chuckles, “I don’t know exactly. I think it’s mostly because of the magic. Like with you.”

I frown, “Mine don’t glow.”

“Yes, they do.”

“No, they don’t.”

He lets out an exasperated huff and retrieves something from the little coffee table, holding up some kind of reflective surface. Two golden discs stare back at me.

“Wow… That’s new…”

“It suits you.”

My gaze flicks up to meet Loki’s, then back to the reflection. I stare at my glowing eyes in puzzlement, then lower my head to rest on his chest again. Lean muscles flex under my splayed fingers as he reaches out to return the reflective thing to the coffee table, then wraps the arm protectively around me. I inhale slowly and let out a sigh. Sweat, ash, ever-present pine, and a unique musk that is unmistakably Loki. I idly wonder why he hasn’t cleaned up from our ordeal; after all, he fixed my clothes, and he’s usually quite fastidious when it comes to cleanliness. My fingers twitch and move almost of their own accord on the rough cotton; warmth seeps into my fingertips. I press my hand flatter against his chest, absorbed in the vibrations of energy and the feeling of life. The slow, steady thump of his heart falters, then kicks up a notch. Before I can make anything of the change, he speaks.

“Are you comfortable here?”

“I’m happy if you are.”

A subtle tension creeps into his body and I curse my choice of words. Why didn’t I just say a simple ‘yes’? I want to tell him it’s perfect here, this is the best possible moment of which I could ever dream, but I can’t. Instead, I bumble, “I mean, I am comfortable here… would rather stay here like this, if you don’t mind.”

He relaxes a little, but some tension remains. Under my ear, his heart skips a beat, thumping solidly on the follow-up. Worry pools in my gut.

“Loki?”

“Hmm?”

“Are you okay? Physically? It’s just, you nearly died from traveling through the ether. The magic I gave you, it hasn’t hurt you, has it?”

He rubs my back gently, “I’m in perfect health, Quill. Why do you ask?”

“Um… Your heart, the rhythm has irregularities…”

An amused huff ruffles my hair, “You are observant, little bird. Do not fret. Just as in a human, I have sympathetic systems that respond to my thoughts and moods. But here’s something most humans can’t do; listen closely.”

The beat slows and then stops altogether. I press my ear into Loki’s chest, unable to comprehend what just happened, as if getting closer might change the fact that he just stopped his own heart. I count under my breath; after 7 seconds, the beat resumes, somewhat slowly, but gradually picks up the pace to normal. I look up into glowing eyes, lost for words.

He flashes a cocky grin. “I’ve not seen you so completely gobsmacked.”

I shake my head, still speechless. Loki laughs, a gentle chuckle that resonates through his chest and into my body. “I’m perfectly fine.”

Finally my words return, “You – you just _stopped_ your own _heart_!”

“Yes. But more importantly, restarted it. Perfecting control of the physical body was a vital component of initiation as a mage. Some thought it an unnecessary tedium, but I’ve found it to be quite a useful skill. That concept isn’t new to you, though, especially since – “ He goes absolutely still for a second, then suddenly takes my head in his hands and turns my face to his, an elated smile splitting his face, “That’s it!”

I blink, confused by the sudden urgency in his voice, the intensity of his gaze, “That’s what?”

“That’s the reason that we can share magical resources without consequence, why you can see through my illusions, why I always know where you are. My magic, it’s a part of you!”

I cock my head – always knows where I am, huh? “Yes. You poured your magic into me when you restarted my heart. We are… made of similar stuff, you might say.”

“Oh, it all makes sense now!” He slaps a hand over his eyes, “It’s so obvious! How could I not have seen it before?”

I shrug, “Doesn’t matter. I’m glad you’ve figured it out, though.”

He sighs, “To think the answer was under my nose the whole time. What must you think of me, that I am such an unobservant fool.”

“I never thought that,” I prop my chin on my hand, gazing up at him. “I have been a creature of pure energy for several years, I’m hyper-aware of the smallest changes in that realm. You’ve never experienced that, you didn’t really know that having a part of your essence as part of me would feel different, or what to look for if it did.” He bobs his head noncommittally, still frowning, chiding himself for his lack of observation, no doubt. I continue, “I guess, in a way, it’s a bit like Harry and Voldemort. But in a good way.”

“Like a who and the what?”

“Harry and Voldemort,” I laugh at his perplexed expression, “From a story, written in the 1990s. It’s about a wizard – “ Loki rolls his eyes and I giggle, “Hey, give me a chance! It’s about a boy, who goes to wizarding school. There’s this really bad wizard, Voldemort, who wants to take over the world, you get the picture. The books span all of Harry’s life, from age 11 to twenties. Anyway, unbeknownst to Harry, he carries a part of Voldemort’s soul with him, as part of him, because when Harry was a baby, Voldemort tried to kill him but Harry’s mother gave her life to protect Harry and that created a protection over him that bounced Voldemort’s spell back, maiming them both.” Loki frowns and draws breath to speak but I hold up one finger, “That’s not the important part, let me finish. Over the years, no one could properly kill Voldemort, and no one knew why, until they worked out that a piece of him was always alive in Harry. So when Harry faced him in a duel, and Voldemort tried to kill him, he was actually killing the part of himself that lived in Harry, and when that happened, he became mortal again. Do you see what I mean?”

Loki considers for a moment, staring at the ceiling. “Are you saying I’m currently immortal and should therefore never challenge you to a duel?”

“No, I – Wait, you’re immortal?”

“According to your theory, in a way, yes.”

“Huh.” I stare at nothing, mulling the theory over, then shrug. “Well, compared to us measly humans, you’re practically immortal anyway.”

“You forget, my dear, that you are not technically human either.”

“Oh yeah…” I grin cheekily up at him, “In that case, compared to _those_ measly humans, you’re practically immortal.”

A soft smile warms his eyes, “I am by no means immortal. Time just works differently for me, as it does for you too.”

“What do you mean, time works differently for me?”

Loki just gives me a smug smile and raises his voice in a mocking but accurate imitation of my own, “Oh Quill, you of all people should be able to work that out – “

“Why, you – !“ I swat his arm playfully, but still hard enough to feel it, “How dare you use my own words against me!”

He laughs huskily, catching my wrist in a firm grip, “You have the right to remain silent; anything you say can be misquoted and used against you.”

“That sounds about right, you - you bastard!” I dissolve into laughter as I struggle to break his grip on my arm. When it’s obvious I’m not going anywhere without some serious effort, I give up with a huff, laying my head once again in the hollow of his shoulder. I relax completely, my captured wrist at his mercy. He loosens his grip, laying my arm across his stomach. In the aftermath of mirth and our proximity, a wash of affection flows through me. My heart skips a beat and thumps loudly as a wave of unfamiliar relaxation and profound peace brings tears to my eyes.

Loki’s arm tightens around my shoulder, “Your heart is beating out of time, little bird, and your breath is shallow. What ails you?”

I bite my tongue on the first response that comes to mind, afraid to speak openly in case I screw up this perfect moment, “Nothing…“

“That was a lie," he purrs in a deadly soft voice.

Too late. I pull in on myself, shrinking away from him, “I know, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be; just speak your mind.”

I take a deep breath, “I’m so tired I’m loopy, hence I’m just gonna say everything: I’m scared and confused. I feel terribly guilty that I kept things from you about Asset and my life, and to be honest, part of me didn’t think you’d be here when I woke up. And after that, I am pinching myself that this is real. I don’t know if it’s who I am, or what I’ve been through, but…” I take a steadying breath, “This, here, just curled up here with you, is… so right. So perfect. Another living being so close to me, content to have _me_ close to _them_ … But it’s more than that because it’s _you_. And I don’t mean to sound clingy or desperate or needy, it’s just… true. Perhaps it’s because I spent so long alone. Both of us. Asset was kept just as much in isolation as I. The longing of two people shared as one.”

The silence echoes with unspoken words, so I close my eyes and let them pour out, “Loki, you have been a beacon in the dark, a voice when no one else could even hear me, a friend when I was alone. A teacher, a counterpart, a shoulder to cry on, a hand to hold, a smile to share. I… I think I’m searching for something without even realizing it, or even knowing what it is. But at the same time, thinking I’m never going to find it, that I’m not worthy, that I don’t deserve it. That I’m not good enough to be worth someone else’s time and effort. And I’m terrified that whatever it is, it will slip away, and I’ll lose the one thing that I am so desperately searching for without even knowing it. Or worse, that I’ll get a taste of it, enough to know what it is that I’m looking for, how it feels to have it within my grasp, and then it will be snatched away.”

Loki says nothing when I fall silent. His hand still rubs lightly up and down my arm, shoulder to wrist. Then he takes my hand, raising it to his face and laying a soft kiss on my knuckles.

“Thank you for your honesty.”

“I’m sorry,” I whisper.

“There is no need to apologize, and I mean that most sincerely,” He kisses my hand again and returns it to rest on his stomach. “Fear not, little one, you have not scared me away with your candor; I know you too well for that.”

“I know, but still…”

“All will be well.”

“All will be well…” I repeat slowly, “Fifty-three percent of the letters in that sentence are ‘L’s.”

A soft chuckle, “Indeed." After a pause, he adds, "You know, I get the feeling we're going to stay here the rest of the night. Shall we make it a little more comfortable?”

"Sure," I scramble upright, shaking out the blanket. Loki shrugs off his jacket and throws it onto the other chair. He gets comfortable laying along the couch, head pillowed on the sagging armrest, and I throw the blanket over us both and snuggle between him and the backrest. He cradles my head in the crook of his shoulder, one arm around my shoulders, the other hand over mine on his stomach. I relax, feeling lighter as if my worries had been a physical burden.

His fingers ghost over the back of my hand. “That story of the wizard boy, how do you know of it?”

I shrug one shoulder, “What kid doesn’t know about Harry Potter?

“When did you read it?

“can’t remember…”

“Hmm.”

I rack my brains for a moment, trying to trace the memory of Harry and Hogwarts and Diagon Alley and Draco and magic castles and Death Eaters and… the smell of old paperbacks and freshly cut grass. I open my eyes in the dark, staring at nothing. “I think it’s from before… I think I read it as a kid.” A proud smile cracks my face, “I remember… There were three new water tanks for the house. They lay on their side in the grass, waiting to get set into place. I would sit on them and read.”

“Is that so…”

“May I show you?”

“If you wish.”

I press my fingertips to his temple. He takes a deep breath and exhales slowly as we fall into the memory, pushing away from the here and now into the feeling of tough plastic, static, warm summer air, the smell of freshly cut grass, birds chirping and fluttering in the trees nearby, horses snorting; static raising the hair on my skinny child-like arms, heat from the sun softening the tank walls until they bow under my weight, jumping from one to the next and back, pretending the gap is a deadly trap. Lying draped over the roundness, reading from a foxed and creased paperback. Sliding down the sides onto the ground, being zapped with static from the gate latch.

The memory fades and I settle back into reality.

Loki is silent for a moment, then whispers, “That was beautiful.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Everyone should have memories like that.”

“I don’t have any others, though…”

“This is the first of many. They’ll come back, trust me.”

“I do.”

“Do what?”

“Trust you.”

Loki squeezes my shoulder, “You and no one else.”

I tighten my grip around his waist, “They don’t know you as I do.”

He says nothing, just turns his head to rest against mine. My eyelids droop, my breathing slows. Before long I’m falling back into darkness, only now I am wrapped in softness and comforting warmth that pulls me into the deepest sleep I’ve ever known.


	16. Take a Moment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time to regroup and recoup, part 2.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Skylight - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9JLm51Ki43M

Mid-morning sun warms my face, lighting my eyelids with rosy color. My body is filled with tingling lightness, a welcome change from the tiredness. I stretch luxuriously, raising my arms over my head and pointing my toes. A murmured one-sided conversation drifts from the kitchen. I sigh and lay still for a moment, savoring the peaceful sounds of birds chirping. The voice falls silent and soft footfalls herald Loki’s approach. When he sees I’m awake, he hands me a mobile phone with a muttered, “It’s the under-privileged eagle.” He flops into the armchair opposite, throwing one leg over the armrest. In the morning light, he looks exhausted, dark shadows under his closed eyes and lips pressed into a thin line.

I shake off the worry and lift my mood for Clint, “Hey there Big Bird, how are ya?”

“ _Can’t complain, sweetheart. How are you_ _fairing_ _?”_

“Had a bit of a rough trot, but much better now. You?”

 _“I’m good. Look, I can’t talk much longer,_ _t_ _he Green Goblin says you’re_ _staying with your mother?_

I burst out laughing at the new nickname, “Yeah, for now, at least. I’ll know more after I’m back on track and functioning at peak, but for now, we just sit tight and hope the storm blows over.”

 _“_ _Good, t_ _hat’s good.”_ C lint sounds relieved. “ _Well, I better go. You tell that piece of work_ _if_ _he_ _doesn’t_ _b_ _ehave himself, he’ll have to answer to_ _me_ _.”_

“I’ll pass the message on,” I giggle, “You take care now, you hear? Be safe.”

_“Yes, ma’am.”_

The line disconnects and I put the phone on the coffee table. Loki opens one eye and then closes it again, “What was so funny?”

“He called you the Green Goblin.”

“Meaning?”

I sigh, frowning at his terseness, “It’s just a pop-culture reference. When was the last time you slept?”

“I don’t need as much as humans do.”

I roll my eyes at his evasion, “How long have we been in this place?”

“Since yesterday morning.”

I raise my brows in surprise, “Is that all? Wow. So, the last time you slept was on the plane, if even then. And since then, you’ve teleported and fought and run and traveled half-way around the world and walked half-way across town in the dark. Then we had a blazing row, a heart-to-heart, then you either did some more magic or some more walking, or both, because that fridge didn’t stock itself, and I bet you didn’t get a wink of sleep last night, did you? Oh, and we then had another heart-to-heart. And you know how I know you’re running on empty? Because you haven’t cleaned yourself up. You fixed my clothes – thanks for that, by the way – but you’re still dusty, ripped, and singed.”

He sighs and opens tired eyes, “Aquilla, the Avengers have been overthrown by an unknown invader, we’re in a foreign country, for the past 24 hours you’ve been practically comatose. What did you expect?”

I kneel by the armrest of Loki’s chair and take his hand. His fingers curl around mine unconsciously, and my heart swells at the contact. “I didn’t mean to sound ungrateful. I am in your debt for the care you have shown me, but now I’m feeling almost as good as new.” I produce a small golden flame between thumb and forefinger. “See? Not a hundred percent yet, but… at least eighty. Maybe eighty-five, after some breakfast.” I give him a cheeky grin, which he returns half-heartedly. “My point is, we’re safe here. Rest now. Let the world turn without you for a while.”

“I can’t – “ He stops, brows rising, lips parted to speak but no words come.

“Can’t what, babe?” I murmur, placing my other hand over his. At the sound of the pet name, his unguarded gaze flicks up to meet mine, and for a split second, I see the turmoil, the worry, the uncertainty, and fear plainly in his emerald eyes. Everything I've felt, reflected back at me.

“Tell me,” I whisper.

Wetness pools along his lower lids, hand twitching in my grasp. He looks up at the ceiling and blinks a few times, clears his throat, “I couldn’t sleep, even if I tried.” He glances at me and away again, “I can’t stop – ”

“Can’t stop worrying, can’t stop thinking? Can’t stop listening for that furtive footstep, that creaking floorboard? Heart pounding at the slightest unrecognized noise, the half-seen shadow?”

He nods, and I squeeze his hand gently, “I know the feeling. I lived like that for months. I know you try to hide it, and you're really good at hiding it, but I see through the act because I do the same. I see your eyes flick toward an unrecognized sound, your shoulders tense when a door slams, the straightness of your back when you walk in unfamiliar surroundings. Always looking over your shoulder, never certain of safety, least of all when you need it most. But we’re in this together. You’re not alone anymore. Let me help you…”

He looks at me then, eyes still overly glossy, shame twitching the corner of his mouth. “You shouldn’t have to – “

I cut him off, “Everything you’ve done for me, you shouldn’t have had to do, so don’t try that on me.” I sigh, “Look, Loki, you need to rest. Anyone else, I wouldn’t think twice about just dropping them into the drift without further ado, but I would never do that to you without your permission. Please…” I hold up my hand a few inches from his face, fingers splayed, “All you have to do is lean forward.”

Loki stares at me for a moment, then abruptly closes his eyes and leans his head into my grip. Our link opens and I gasp at the weight of his consciousness, agitated and twisting, unstable, fraught with worry and the imaginings of possible futures. I’ve put people to sleep before, and it was never like this. But then, I’ve never tried to calm the mind of a god. Wanda and Clint are only human, a storm in teacup compared to the raging ocean now bearing down on me. I push back against the tide, wading through the sea of thoughts until I find the center of the maze, where a dark-haired young man is curled up on the ground, rocking back and forth. I put my hand on his shoulder and he raises his head and looks up at me. His hair is shorter, his face is younger, not etched with the evidence of hardship and scorn like its physical counterpart, but the exact same bright green eyes stare at me with the same piercing intensity. The swirl of memories, thoughts, and imagination twist in tumultuous abandon around us as we stand in the eye of the storm. The young man rises slowly, dressed in a simple cotton shirt and trousers, barefoot in the swirling mist.

_It’s time to let go._

He drops his gaze and nods. I move around him, place one hand around the back of his neck and the other on his chest.

_Trust me?_

He nods again and closes his eyes. I let myself fall backward, taking him with me through the floor of consciousness and down into the drift. All around us fills with pin-pricks of light, zipping and zapping, faint trails of rainbow colors. The dark is never black here. We float in soft nothingness. A smile graces Loki’s young face. I release my hold, letting him float away. His hair rises and fans about his head as if he were underwater. His arms open out as the specks of light start to drift toward him, curious of the newcomer. One lands on an outstretched finger and slips beneath the skin, running up his arm and settling in his heart. Another enters through his other hand, and another and another, until steady streams of light are pouring gently into him. I move away and rise up to reality, leaving him in the peace and quiet of the drift.

Loki’s head is heavy against my fingers, face slack, lips parted. A sighing breath gusts over my wrist as I lower his head back against the chair. I get up stiffly and slip away silently, make myself some breakfast and eat it outside, curled up in a faded hammock chair on the back porch. The patio bricks steam in the morning sun after last night's rain. The grass in the back yard is long and unkempt, the bushes overgrown and flowering with abandon. Mock orange competes with jasmine, parsley is going crazy along the border, rampant Petunias and lilies fill the flowerbeds. A leopard tree is growing in the center of the yard, heavy branches drooping to the ground. The dirt is bare around the trunk, hollowed out in one placed and scuffed as if by an animal. Two pieces of frayed rope dangle from the strongest bow, as if there had once been a swing beneath the branch.

I walk over to the tree and place my hand on the smooth bark, gazing up at the fern-like leaves, dappled with morning sun. The familiar scent of the tree pervades my senses and pulls me into a memory of clambering about the branches, finding cicadas and caterpillars amongst the leaves. With a wan smile, I pick an old seed pod. The dark russet husk is split open, revealing the neat rows of empty seed cases. I drop the open pod and pick up and closed one, running my thumb over the familiar rough texture.

Back at the house, I find an old broom and climb the stairs to the master bedroom and bathroom. After a few minutes of dedicated dusting, the ceiling is no longer infested with cobwebs. I make my way through the rest of the house, a silently as possible, wiping surfaces with a damp cloth and collecting spider webs on the broom. I lose myself in the tedium of cleaning, not thinking, just doing. Soon the place is respectable, and I stop for some lunch. Normally I don’t eat more than once a day, at most, but since I’ve expended so much energy, and all my supplements got incinerated when the compound burnt down, I need to be more careful.

After lunch, I check on Loki, who’s still sound asleep, before heading back to the quickly-becoming-my-favorite-spot hammock chair. The warm afternoon sun filters through the wall of climbing jasmine that shades half the back porch, and I relax into the gently swaying seat. Pre-storm stillness pervades the atmosphere, clouds build, and grasshoppers click and whir, lulling me into stillness.

I return to the here and now at the sound of thunder. It’s twilight, and the cool air smells of rain. A fizz of electricity tingles through my veins as lightning strikes a few miles away. For the first time since being human again, I feel the storm, a tingling in my blood and a lightness in my bones, a reaching out to the feel of life and vibrancy that swirls and coils in the sky. Without warning, a tingling rush of freedom pushes me upward, drifting on the wind. I can’t see anything. I feel heavy, even though I feel like I’m floating. I don’t feel the rain, I don’t feel the lightning, only the static weight of my limbs and the tingle of physical habitation. Something brushes my feet. I open my eyes with a resigned sigh and stare in shock at the green fronds around my toes. I look around in confusion. The yard is too far below me, I’m level with the second-story windows, my feet brush the top a tree branch – What the –?

With an undignified shriek, I fall to the ground and lay there in a heap, staring up at the leaves waving in the wind. Did that just happen? I press my fingers into my palm, checking to make sure they don’t pass through the flesh like they would if I was dreaming, but no, I’m solid. I’m real. How the hell did I just end up at tree-top height? The rain is starting in earnest now. I pick myself up and walk slowly back to the patio, lost in thought… I flew. I actually flew. Physically. How is that possible? How did I do it? Can I do it again?

I flop into the hammock chair, which gives way and dumps me on the hard bricks below. With a few choice curse words, I pick myself up for the second time. One of the supports has frayed through. I hold the two pieces together and after a moment of concentration, the weave rejoins itself seamlessly. I sit, testing my handiwork, but it holds firm. The rain intensifies and the gutters gurgle, water rushing down the pipes and into the tank. I get a spare blanket and curl up in the hammock, content to watch the lightning show and listen to the rain. After a while, I give up watching and just listen, and the sound of rushing water and dripping gutters lulls me to sleep.


	17. Breakfast at Tifany's

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When I was you and you were me, was there anything either of us could do but be?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thinking of You - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zWiseAfwoUk

I wake to silence and darkness. This place is far enough from the city light that the sky is illuminated by thousands of sparkling eyes. I rise stiffly and stretch, my spine clicking in a few places. In the darkness, I can make out enough to navigate my way to the kitchen, where I get a glass of water. The clock on the wall (which I had set during my cleaning spree) proclaims it to be 2:07 in the morning. I finish my drink and pad into the living room. Loki is snoring very softly in the armchair. I climb the stairs and flick a spark onto the wick of a candle by the double bed. It bursts into flame, burning with a green tint for a second, then settles down into a normal hue. I watch it, frowning, then shrug and open the window; cool night air spills into the room.

Back downstairs, I approach the sleeping form and brush my fingers lightly through his hair, brushing against his dreams, making sure he’s okay. A deep peace greets my questing awareness. As if sensing me, he stirs, mumbling something incoherent, reaching out, hand drunkenly colliding with my midriff. I capture his cool fingers and press my other hand to his cheek.

“Loki…”

His eyes crack open, merest slits. He leans into my touch, a smile twitching his lips.

“Loki, wake up a little, darling.”

“Don’t wanna…”

I chuckle softly. “You’ve been here for over twelve hours.”

He frowns and opens his eyes properly, looking at me for the first time. “Twelve hours?” He yawns hugely, the tip of his tongue curling up, reminiscent of an apex predator. I smother a grin at the odd little quirk. “Doesn't feel like it…”

“I’m sorry to wake you, but it’s not good to be in drift too long when you’re not used to it. And besides, if you go wash up and crash on a flat surface, I can guarantee you will sleep like the dead until sunrise.” I give him a smile and pat on the cheek, straightening up.

Loki rubs his eyes, grumbling, “The dead don’t actually sleep.”

I press my lips together in distaste, “I am well aware of that, I’ve seen more than my fair share of souls wrenched from this life into whatever comes next, I know full well they don’t sleep. However, that doesn’t change the saying or the fact that if you go to bed, you will sleep soundly.” When he doesn’t move, I shrug. “Or not. I mean, if you really like this too-small, lumpy armchair, then be my guest. Oh, wait – this is _my_ house, therefore you _are_ my guest. My house, my rules: take a shower, then go to bed.”

“Alright, fine, I’m going,” He grumbles, hauling himself upright and swaying as he stands in front of me. I place my hands on his chest instinctively. He puts one hand over mine and looks down at it blearily, dark hair falling over his face.

“You realize this is completely inadequate to prevent my fall should the circumstance eventuate.”

I smile up at him, “Perhaps for most people, but then I’m not most people.”

He cups my cheek, “How could I forget when those beautiful eyes are gazing into my soul?”

My throat constricts at his words, my heart swells with pride and something unfamiliar that makes my hands tremble slightly. My lips part but I make no sound, frozen. He blinks slowly, a lazy smile spreading across his face, then drops his hand and walks away. Heavy steps on the stairs shock me back into reality. I follow him, but the bathroom door is closed by the time I make the climb.

“Hey, leave your clothes on the landing and I’ll fix ‘em,” I call through the door, turning away to make my way to the bed and sitting on the edge. A few deep breaths calm my racing heart. A strange lightness fills me, I don’t quite know what to make of it. I have the strangest urge to giggle and dance around like an idiot, or climb onto the roof and shout for all the world to hear, but I just sit on the edge of the bed, a stupid grin plastered on my face. Loki had said my eyes were beautiful. He’d touched my cheek with care and, dare I even say it, affection. Maybe it was just the disorientation, like me when I’m tired, I lose my filters, but even so…

The bathroom door opens and closes. I go and collect the ruined garments, sit on the top step. The jacket is the worst. I spread it out on the landing, splay my hands over it and close my eyes, diving into the fabric, the structure of treads and cotton and polyester. Pull frayed threads back into alignment, rebuild burns, extract particles of dirt, concrete, ash, dust. I repeat the process with the shirt and trousers, too. Loki’s boots are covered in dried mud too, but that can be done by hand in the morning. I scoop up the considerable pile of debris and chuck it out the window, fold the clothes and leave them in a neat pile on the landing.

I fall onto the double bed with a huff and a bounce, pulling a pillow against me, staring through the open window at the stars. The night is pleasantly cool, the sky is clear. At first, I’m too unbalanced to fall stop thinking, but before too long…

I rise out of a timeless doze, the softness of the pillows inviting me back under. My arm is curled around one, hugging it to me against the chill that has crept into the room. There is a comforting warm weight across my midsection and a presence behind me. I turn my head slowly, not wanting to disturb him, and gaze at Loki’s sleeping face. He’s lying on his side, one arm folded, hand tucked under his neck, the other arm draped across my stomach, breathing slow and deep. My heart swells with affection. To let himself relax enough to fall so deeply asleep in the same room – in the same bed, even – shows me just how much he’s letting me into his life, past the layers of scorn and disinterest and distrust that he keeps between himself and the world. Over the years I’ve known him, he’s never been as unguarded as over these past few hours. He’s showing his trust in me, and that makes me proud, and happy, and comforted, and in love. I gasp softly as the realization makes tears pool in my eyes; my heart is so broken and twisted, I’m not sure if I’m capable of love anymore, but if I am, it would be for him.

I take the time to study his handsome face in the late-rising moonlight. The tension and stress are smoothed away; he looks so young, relaxed, and peaceful. The fine wrinkles and lines, etched by years of frowns and smiles, lay a map of life upon his pale skin. I trace a finger lightly along his jaw; haven’t really thought about it before, but even living in cramped quarters in various labs or traveling together, I’ve never seen him shave, or comb his hair, or do any other day-to-day personal grooming, yet he is always clean and presentable. I lift a lock of hair and wind it around my finger, lost in the silken feeling. The dim light reflects off the strands, showing the color is actually a deep, deep blue. Well, I guess that’s not so odd, in the grand scheme of things. He’s not human after all, why should his appearance be governed by human normalities.

Loki sighs and shifts in his sleep, mumbles something that includes my name. His hand on my side twitches, fingers tensing. I roll toward him, pillowing my head on his bicep. He responds immediately, folded arm opening and going around my shoulders in an automatic embrace. I smile and tuck my head under his chin, nestling into his warmth. A contented sigh ruffles my hair. I relax, letting myself slip toward the drift again, surrounded by his clean scent and the sound of his body in slumber.

I wake to gentle strokes up and down my back. Morning light bathes the room. The air is even colder, my arms are crossed over my chest, hands tucked under my chin; my legs have entwined with Loki’s, one foot tucked into the crook of his knees in search of warmth. We’re innocently entangled. A sigh escapes me and I turn my face into his shirt, cherishing this perfect moment.

“Quill?” His voice is gravelly with sleep, his chest vibrates under my cheek.

“Hmm?”

“This okay?”

I smile, “Perfect.”

He hums in response, a subtle tension dissipating.

“Did you sleep well?” I murmur.

“Better than ever.”

“Good.”

I close my eyes, not wanting this time to end.

“I dreamed of you,” Loki whispers into my hair, “I watched you as the rising sun painted your face with warm hues of pink and gold. You were so beautiful, I could do nothing but stare at you, and then you looked at me and held out your hands. You were standing on the edge of a high cliff, and somehow I stood on nothing, floating. You looked down, then at me. I held my hands out to you and said I wouldn’t let you fall. You placed your hands in mine and stepped onto the air, too.”

My throat closes as affection washes through me; he dreamed of me? Did he call me beautiful? I nuzzle further into his embrace. Does this dream have anything to do with the strange ability to spontaneously fly that I discovered yesterday?

An electronic beeping breaks the silence and makes us both jump.

“Damn it!” I pull away from Loki and clamber unceremoniously over him, ignoring his muffled protestations, to reach the bedside table where I had put the phone last night. It buzzes against the wood, and I swipe the screen to stop the noise. I flop back onto the bed, staring at the screen.

“What is it?” Loki stretches luxuriously and rolls over, scooping me back into his warmth.

“A message from Clint. Just says he’s fine, hopes we have a nice day in paradise.” I sigh and drop the phone back on the nightstand. Such a beautiful, perhaps unrepeatable moment ruined. I feel Loki’s eyes on me and glance up to find him watching me thoughtfully, chin resting on his palm.

He opens his mouth to speak, pauses, narrows his eyes, then asks, “Are you, by chance, thinking about the intangible nature of a moment? How it can be such an inconsequential blip in the flow of time, and yet feel as if it’s the most important thing in the world?”

I blink a few times, “Not in so many words.”

He smiles lazily, eyes half-closed. “I’m glad we’re on the same page.”

“Me too. I just hope we’re reading the same book.”

He chuckles and scoops me to him in a bear hug, throws one leg over mine, and rolls himself over me. For a breathless second, I’m overwhelmed by the feeling of his weight pressing me into the mattress, hair falling across my face, then he’s gone, rising smoothly to stand by the bed, looking good as new and completely unruffled. I stare up at him, breathless and disoriented.

He looks down at me with a toothy grin, “Yes, I do believe we are reading the same book.”

He turns away and I sit up, indignant, “Why didn’t you just get up from your side of the bed?”

“I did.”

“What?!”

“ _You_ climbed over _me…_ ”

“Oh, come on!”

From the doorway he gives me a wink, “God of mischief, remember?”

I snort. “God of being a jerk,” I mutter under my breath.

“I heard that,” he calls as he trots down the stairs.

“Good for you!” I flounce into the bathroom, shutting the door a little too vigorously. I hear his muffled laughter from the living room. I lean on the sink, eyes closed, trying to calm my racing heart. His antics have left me feeling off-balance and light-headed again, a similar feeling to last night. I stare at my face in the mirror, bright eyes and flushed cheeks. “Stop it,” I tell my reflection sternly, and take a long hot shower.

When I exit the bathroom, the smell of scrambled eggs makes my mouth water. On the kitchen table, two plates of creamy-golden eggs and fried tomato, on perfectly browned toast, are waiting by a pitcher of orange juice. I steal a glob of the egg from one of the plates and pop it in my mouth, just as Loki steps through the back door and glares at me.

“No dessert for you, thief.”

“Hey, it was from my plate!” I protest, quickly sitting at the now-predetermined place at the table.

Loki growls under his breath and sits opposite.

“May I ask, from whence came this feast?” I take a sip of orange juice and close my eyes in delight; cold, sweet, thick with pulp.

“I made it.”

I raise my eyebrows in incredulity and Loki gives me a smug smile. “Why, just because I’m male, you think I cannot prepare breakfast?”

I purse my lips, “No… but because you’re a _mag_ _e_ , I think you understand the power of words and their meanings. Specifically, ‘make’ and ‘prepare’, as opposed to, oh, I don’t know… ‘cook’?” I rest my chin on my hand and smile knowingly.

Loki opens his mouth, frowns slightly, and snaps it shut again.

I let out a cascade giggle, “Gotcha! This is awesome, by the way.” I shovel a fork-full of eggs into my mouth, still stifling a smile.

Loki shakes his head, “There’s no pulling the wool over your eyes, is there, my dear?”

Mouth full, I give him a wink instead. He takes a bite of his own magically-prepared breakfast. We finish the meal in silence. Once our plates are scraped clean, Loki snaps his fingers and they vanish in a wisp of green mist.

I lean back in the hard wooden chair. “Well, that certainly beets washing up. Thank you, Trickster.”

“You’re most welcome.”

“I take it you’re feeling better after your time in the drift?”

Loki leans forward and rests his forearms on the table, “Yes, I want to ask you about that, actually. You said you’ve ‘dropped’ people in it, and that it’s not good to be there too long?” He looks at me expectantly.

“Yeah. Wanda let me practice on her. Our abilities overlap in some areas, we would practice mind-control and manipulation on each other – under strictly controlled circumstances – so we could push our boundaries and learn more about our own abilities. And Clint has trouble sleeping sometimes.” I smile fondly at a memory, “He has no real use for the drift, it’s just a very deep sleep for him. Good ol’ humans, oblivious to just about everything. But I think the drift may be slightly different for everyone. For Wanda, it’s a place of peace and relaxation. For me, it’s solitude and a place to recharge, so to speak. And when I took you there, the strings seemed to like you. I haven’t seen them attracted to anyone but me.”

Loki frowns, “’Strings’?”

“Those traces of light, little specks that come and go in a heartbeat.”

“Why do you call them strings?”

“Ah…” I take a deep breath, “I read a book once – ”

Loki rolls his eyes, “Here we go…”

“Hey! It was a fascinating book, by Brian Greene. It was about the concept of parallel universes, stacked time, branes – that’s B-R-A-N-E-S, not brains – it was really interesting. Anyway, strings are a concept in theoretical physics, whereby particles are replaced by one-dimensional things called strings, which propagate through space and interact with each other. This explains stuff like spooky action at a distance, that kind of thing. Now, I know string theory, and what I – and now you – experience in the drift are probably unrelated, but it’s a cool name, and it kinda suits it, don’t you think? Those speck of light are… I don’t know what they are, exactly. Energy, potential, magic – which is just another name for energy, really.” I lean forward, “Stephen likes to say that magic is a river, and one must surrender to its current to use it. Maybe, those flecks of light are the river. As for being in it too long, well, I found I would get so energized I got tired from the other side. Wanda found that too, like over-charging a battery, but it takes a fair while, possibly even multiple sessions close together, to get like that. But with time and practice, I learned how to limit my intake so I can spend as much time there as I like.” I push back my chair, “Come outside, I want to show you something.” I kick the swinging door open and Loki follows me out, squinting in the bright sun. In the shade of the patio, I point to the leopard tree, “See that tree?”

Loki crosses his arms, “Is there some reason I shouldn’t?”

“How high do you think it is?”

He puts his head on one side, “Maybe 30 feet?”

“Well, yesterday evening, just before the rain came, I was sitting out here – “ I gesture to the hammock chair, “Minding my own business, and then this strange feeling came over me, a bit like separating from the body but not quite. Do you remember when I showed you the lightning on the compound roof? That’s what I was aiming for, a bit, but I wasn’t thinking about anything in particular. Anyway, next thing I know, something brushes my toes, and I look around and I’m floating in the air, over that branch.” I point to the one in question, about halfway up the tree. “I was flying. I was actually flying, in my body, really… flying! And then, of course, because I thought, ‘Holy shit, I’m flying!’ it stopped working and I fell.” I flop into the chair and put my feet on the edge of a plant pot, “But the point is, I actually flew. Never done that before.”

Loki, who has been watching me with a mix of amazement and disbelief, lowers himself into another wicker chair. “Interesting… That happened last night?”

“Yep.”

“Before you woke me up?”

“About seven hours before, yeah.”

“And then I dreamed of us flying.”

“Yep.”

Loki rubs his chin thoughtfully, “Do you, er, feel… different? In any way? Since arriving here? Has something changed?”

I chuckle at his stumbling, “It’s okay, I know what you mean. Yes, something has changed. I feel lighter, there’s a fizz in my bones. I flew, for god's sake! But my magic has a slightly different feel to it, just a little touch of something… grittier? Stronger? Hard to say, it’s really subtle. Yesterday I lit a candle and it burned green for a second. I thought maybe there was some gunk on the wick, but now I’m not so sure. Why, do you feel different?”

Loki clears his throat, “You know that manifesting objects takes a certain toll.” I nod. “Breakfast, for example; that kind of spell is somewhat tiring. I was actually heading for something much more simple, but as I discovered how easy it was, I got more elaborate. It was… smooth, silky, like the stuff was just waiting to be pulled into existence. Even back on Asgard, I’ve never felt magic behave like that. Certainly not felt it like that here. If anything, it’s been getting thicker and more draining since New Asgard became established, as the people started to really accept Midgard as their home. The worst ever was at the compound, when I tried to take Strange back to Bleaker Street.” He shivers in disgust, “That was like pushing through mud, all clingy and clawing and thick.”

“Magic is influenced by people, yeah?”

“Correct.”

“Are there different types?”

“Technically, no. It is what it is, but there are many different ways of accessing and using it, which give the appearance of there being different types.”

“Really? So evil sorcerers who use black magic are…”

“Using the neutral resource by, or for, nefarious means.”

“What would happen if nobody believed in any kind of magic at all?”

Loki’s mouth twists into a disbelieving frown, “Theoretically, the potential of that realm would become dormant, or at least extremely hard to access.”

“So… a bit like what it was becoming, then?”

“Possibly. But even the most narrow-minded have some concept of a higher power or even plain old luck. How could every single person, including children, stop believing?”

“I’m not sure…” I pick a dead flower off the plant at my feet and start to carefully dissect the ovule beneath the dried petals, lost in thought.

After a moment, Loki breaks the silence, “You know what you said earlier about the power of words?”

“Mm?” I meet his calculating gaze, but he says nothing, just raises one eyebrow. “Okay,” I sigh, “I know. I have a theory as to why Midgardian magic is getting sticky and yours is changing, but it’s just a theory. However… at the moment, the formula lacks vital data, and to get that I need to step back and take a look at the world, from the outside.” I twist the dismembered flower between my fingers, “But… I’m afraid. Part of me doesn’t want to know, doesn’t want to look. I want to hide here, willfully ignorant of the state of the world, because if I don’t know, then there’s nothing I can do. I’m terrified.”

Loki leans forward and takes the twirling flower, replacing it with his hand. “I know you’re afraid, little bird, but we have to know. It’s been on my mind since we got here, what happened at the compound? What’s happening to the world? I wish you didn’t have to do this, but you’re the only one who can.” He sighs, looking at my fingers curled around his, “This world is my home now, too. Not even because of New Asgard, though of course that’s a part of it, but because of something I do not yet fully understand. And when someone attacks my home, I will defend it to my dying breath, but this is not something I can fight in the manner I’m used to. It wears our friend's faces and hides in plain sight. My skills are inadequate for the task. I need you.”

I grip his hand and give a watery laugh, “Well, when you put it like that…”

“Anything to get what I want, darling.”

“Nice try, but by saying that, I now know that every word you said was true.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because anyone else would take that last bit at face value, and assume you’re a cocksure smug bastard, who cares about no one but himself, manipulating and exploiting my naivety to your advantage.”

Loki drops his gaze in shame, “Is that really what people think of me?”

“Mostly, yes. Unfortunately, first impressions are hard to shake. But speaking of such, I knew you as a ghost. I saw through all your games, saw how many walls you had between yourself and the world. I _know_ you care – you just hide it very well sometimes. You present to the world the scorn-hardened shell of ‘Loki, God of Mischief’. And most people don’t bother to look beyond the presentation, they don’t bother to see what’s beneath, but I do. And it’s worth it.” I lift his chin and meet his gaze, “You’re worth it.”

He just stares at me in silence. Tears prick behind my eyes as the enormity of what I just said sinks in. “Well, I think that’s enough backhanded compliments for one day,” I laugh, trying to lighten the mood, “There’s a world that needs saving. Let’s get to it!”

I get up and Loki rises too, but before I can move he pulls me into a tight hug.

“Thank you, Aquilla.”

“Any time. Come on, let’s get this over with.”

We sit opposite each other, offset so our knees don’t clash and we can get as close as possible. I place my palm on Loki’s forehead and he mimics on me.

“Just like atom-diving, but opposite, yes?”

“Mm-hmm.” I shuffle my foot into a better position. “I’ll take you along for the ride, up instead of down. If I get attacked, or too scared to function, pull me out, okay?”

“You have my word.”

It feels oddly like we're preparing for war, or saying goodbye. I have the sudden urge to tell him that I love him, but I bite my tongue. Where had that come from? I don’t even know for sure yet. And what if he doesn’t return the sentiment? Besides, now is _not_ the time…

“Quill?”

“Sorry, got distracted…”

“Are you sure you’re ready for this?”

“Yes. Just give me a minute to settle myself and I’ll be ready.”

“Alright.”

I turn my focus inward, slowing my breath and feeling the thump of my heart. Energy swirls and flows through me, a current within the deep, rushing river. Un-moored from the shore of reality, I float freely, calm for a moment, then snatched away by the current, carried upwards and outwards, riding the wave of light and sound and color –


End file.
